Escaping Fate
by Jaylee1
Summary: He had somehow managed to find himself in the land that time forgot, and considering that he belonged to a society that still used quills and ink bottles, that was truly saying something. Harry/Legolas. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

*****

Harry Potter always thought he'd enjoy anonymity, but this was ridiculous. And as his eyes scanned the forested area around him, with no sign of civilization anywhere, he found himself actually missing the concrete, bricks, and mortar of muggle London. A bloody building, _any_ building, would be nice. And was it too much to ask for some smog, and the whirring sound of automobiles passing by on a nearby street? All this nature, and no people around to cut it down and build a condominium, or at least a fine wizarding establishment… it was just _unnatural_. He had somehow managed to find himself in the land that time forgot, and considering that he belonged to a society that still used quills and ink bottles, that was truly saying something.

It was his damn Gryffindor curiosity at fault, and Harry vowed silently to himself that once he got back home, he'd hire someone else to explore the uncharted areas of the Black properties he'd inherited. Why he thought that entering the room locked with ten locks and wards, and curses, all metaphorically screaming 'keep out or you're going to wind up in the forested land where dinosaurs still probably roam' he didn't know. And why he thought, once in the room, that walking through a golden arch filled with rippled air, like staring into space during a heat wave, was a good idea on top of his already dubious series of good ideas, remained beyond him. Perhaps Draco Malfoy had been right all along, perhaps he _was_ thick. Not that he'd ever, ever admit that aloud. In fact, when he got home and told his friends about this jaunt, the whole thing was intentional because Harry had wanted to visit some lovely trees. And he didn't care if Hermione wasn't likely to believe that or not.

First things first, however, he needed to find a way out of this hell, preferably before encountering an insect of any kind…

The sound of a stick breaking caught his attention, and his hand automatically went to his wand. But before he could even get out an 'immobulus' a creature that looked like a house elf on steroids sprinted by him, followed by an arrow whizzing through the air and sticking the tripped out thingamabob in the back.

An arrow. A real, honest to god arrow. Harry had to do a double take just to make sure he had seen what he thought he saw. He had been joking to himself when he thought that dinosaurs still roamed here, but apparently he wasn't too far off. Only instead of dinosaurs he had somehow transported back in time to the time of Robin Hood and his merry men. Who the fuck still used arrows…

"Don't move," a demanding voice called out, and Harry whirled around to come face to face with… good god, the man looked like a model. Long, flowing blonde hair, eyes bright and as blue as the sky on a cloudless summer day… Harry felt his heart rate pick up, and he flashed the stranger a hesitant, shy smile. Anyone that gorgeous had to be an okay sort of bloke, even if he did hold a bow and arrow set in his hands, currently pointed at Harry's face. Archery really was an underrated sport, maybe he should take it up. Perhaps this guy taught a class…

"Er, hello, my name is Harry. I can see that you're very busy hunting, uh, things, but could you lead me to the nearest portal to London. I'd greatly appreciate it," he asked, cursing himself for the uncertainty and awe in his voice. No being had the right to be that attractive, they just didn't. Particularly a male someone when Harry had come out to his friends not days before. This place, wherever it was, was suddenly looking much more promising. Whatever they fed the locals here must be smashing, to turn out such a fine specimen of manhood… with a sudden shudder, Harry realized that yes, Malfoy really was right, he was thick, because here he was with an arrow pointed at his face and all he could think about was his hormones. It sucked being 18, and driven by more primitive parts of his brain, it really did.

"London?" Mr. Gorgeous asked, "I've heard not of London. You are in the forests of Mirkwood, in Middle Earth," the man stated dubiously, looking at Harry as if he had grown another head. Which pretty much reminded him of home, as lately everyone had taken to giving him similar looks, the more and more he stated how he didn't want to become an auror because he was tired of fighting dark wizards and he didn't want to go out in public and be hounded by reporters asking for the inside scoop on his defeat of Voldermort, and how he just wanted to be left alone, and find a nice bloke to settle down with and have constant sex. Apparently even strangers thought him weird.

"Middle Earth, huh, as opposed to Higher Earth or Lower Earth? Last I heard, Earth was between Venus and Mars, but hey, if Pluto can be de-planet-afied, then sure, there are three Earths," Harry joked, moving his hands up in mock surrender, while taking a subtle step back.

The strangers expression turned even more dubious at Harry's words, and Harry just shook his head, wondering if there was any being, anywhere, that would ever truly get him. He had lucked out in the muggle world, he had lucked out in the wizarding world, and apparently things weren't looking too good here in Sherwood forest, either.

"That was a joke," Harry explained to Mr. Gorgeous, "I get kind of nervous and tend to be flippant whenever fearing for my life, so do you, uh, think you can point that arrow somewhere else. I'd kind of like my nose to remain on my face."

The stranger lowered his arms slowly, his eye ranking up and down Harry's form, as if he were sizing him up. Harry wanted to think he saw appreciation in those startling blue eyes, but chalked it up to wishful thinking on his part. The chances of this guy being gay and not married were about as likely as this place having a diner or pub somewhere in the near proximity, but hey, a guy couldn't help but dream.

"Thanks for not shooting me, I appreciate that. I'm a bit lost and you and the, whatever that was that you just killed, are the only beings I've come across in hours. I entered a portal, accidentally mind, in one of my homes in London and ended up here. Problem is, I don't know where here is, or if you have any wizarding establishments near by…" Harry asked, unsure, really if he should be mentioning the word wizarding to the stranger in front of him, but something about the ethereal glow emanating from the skin of the being, and the slight point to his ears, told Harry that this person was definitely not a muggle, and thus, more likely aware that a magical world existed. If not, he'd just think Harry was definitely crazy and was less likely to believe anything he said anyway. He really had nothing to lose.

"Portal? Did the Valar send you here? Why do you seek the Istari?" the archer asked, his blue eyes murky with confusion.

"The Isa-what? Who is the Valar? Never heard of him. I seek wizards because I'm a lost one, and finding another of my kind can help me get home. Do you know of any? Can you take me to one?" Harry inquired again, flashing his wand in front of the archer for good measure, hoping that would give him a clue as to what he was talking about.

The blue-eyed blonde smirked at Harry, his stance relaxing entirely as he gave Harry another once over.

"Aren't you a bit young to be a wizard, as you call it?" the blonde asked, putting his bow and arrow set away on a strap behind his back and folding his arms and setting Harry on edge in a way that he hadn't experienced since attending a potions class with Professor Snape.

At that point, Harry didn't care how good the man in front of him looked, it was just plain rude to doubt him and cast aspersions on his age when he was only asking for help. Obviously manners were a cultivated art that had to have developed in the industrial age, and not before, if the lack of manners here were any indication.

This guy had to be related to the Malfoys somehow.

Well, never let it be said that Harry Potter didn't rise to any challenge placed in front of him. With a quick slash of his wand, and an 'incendio' pointed at a nearby tree, a small flame caught and held, and the being turned from him, to the tree, and back to him again with wide eyes.

"I will take you to Gandalf, he is a wizard," the blonde said, his eyes conveying a new found respect.

And Harry could feels his cheeks heat up and turn red in his customary blush, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to his previous indignation.

"Er, thanks, that would be great," Harry replied, looking down on the earth below him. It was progress anyway. With any luck he would be tucked into a meal of Kreacher's beef stew and homemade bread by nightfall. Things were definitely looking up.

With another wave of his wand, he put out the fire, and turned to his companion.

"I am Legolas, Prince of the woodland elves of northern Mirkwood," the blonde said, giving him a slight smile. And Harry felt his knees buckle, just a little. If the arrow-wielding, threatening figure was a turn on, the smiling version was even more so.

So, his companion was an elf. A prince of elves no less. For whatever reason that didn't surprise Harry. Legolas definitely had a refined look to him that spoke of royalty. The elf heritage, though, that was a bit shocking. The only elves Harry had ever been exposed to were house elves, and there was no way that Harry could put Legolas and Kreacher anywhere near each other categorically in his brain. Still though, life spend in the wizarding world had somewhat jaded him to the sheer amount of magical creatures that roamed the world, and he supposed meeting a tall, slender, and handsome version of elves wasn't too weird in the grand scheme of things. Blast ended-skrewts, now _those _were weird.

"It's nice to meet you, Legolas," Harry replied, hoping fervently for his blush to disappear, but knowing it was futile. If all elves looked like this one, then Harry definitely liked elves. And the fact that Legolas' blue eyes kept staring, as if he somehow, for reasons that escaped him, found Harry fascinating… well, that did little in calming his libido or his embarrassment.

Why did he have to travel to some unknown dimension somewhere in a prehistoric forest to find someone like Legolas? Why didn't they grow them like this in England? Harry shook his head to get rid of his morose thoughts. It didn't really matter as he had no intents on staying here anyway, and besides of which, interested looks are not, there was no telling whether Legolas barked up his tree, figuratively speaking. Could elves be gay? Did they even have the same type of anatomy that human men did?

Harry couldn't help the coughing fit that caught a hold of him at that thought, and Legolas rushed to Harry's side, a long hand with slender fingers coming up to lightly pat Harry on the back to help calm his lungs. Harry could feel the heat of Legolas' skin through the thin cotton of his shirt and the moment Legolas' hand came in contact with his back, even through the material, there was something electrifying that jolted Harry, as if Legolas had just shocked him by rubbing his feet against carpet prior to touching him, only infinitely more pleasant.

Even the elf was shocked by it, if his stunned expression and his slowly backing away from Harry was anything to go by.

Good gods and goddesses, could this world possibly get any odder? He had already been grappling with an instant attraction to the elf, and now it appeared they found each other shocking in a very literal way. This was the weirdest day of his entire short life, even weirder than that fateful day when a half giant had huffed and puffed and blew his door down, offering him a birthday cake and telling him that he was a wizard.

"Elo! Ertha meleth!," the elf whispered.

Harry had no idea what the elf was saying, and in a decidedly unGryffindor fashion, was too afraid to ask him to translate. Whatever had happened between the two of them was more than a little intimidating, and Harry just wanted to go home, now more than ever. He couldn't afford electrical currents, couldn't afford attractive elves who spoke in beautiful tongues - he couldn't afford anything that caught him off balance. He'd had enough of that when Voldemort was alive. He preferred a nice, structured world, thank you very much, preferably one within civilization. That last year of searching for horcruxes before Voldemort's defeat had put him off of living it up in nature for life.

"So, uh, lead the way," Harry stated, turning away from the awed look Legolas was shooting him, while trying to calm his ever racing heart.

Screw mystery portals anyway. When Harry got back home he was adding another lock to that damn door.

To be continued…

elo: an exclamation of wonder, admiration, delight

ertha: to unite

meleth: love (as a noun)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Harry knew he ought to say something to fill the awkward silence but he wasn't sure what. Polite conversation had never really been his forte, nor Ron's - it was hard to get a word in edgewise when one was best friends with Hermione, so both of them had long since given up trying.

And then there was that pesky fact that he found Legolas extremely attractive and there seemed to be some kind of weird electrical current between them… anyone who could come up with something clever to say in these type of conditions should be awarded the order of Merlin, first class, just for accomplishing the impossible.

What did one say to an unnaturally attracted elf, in a strange world with no bloody public transport system, whom he'd been trailing behind awkwardly for the past half hour? And what kind of world didn't at least have some kind of taxi, or, considering the distinct lack of technology he'd witnessed so far, horse and buggy, to rent anyway?

He didn't think "Lovely foliage you've got here, come into the woods to kill the local beasties often? By the way, you wouldn't happen to have a knight bus that operates around here, would you?" would really quite cut it. But then, if he was going to be fair with himself, and letting himself off of the hook did seem awfully appealing, it did take two to make a conversation, and the elf had also remained stoically silent the whole time they'd been walking as well.

Let tall, blond and handsome break the silence, then, Harry had enough to worry about being around all of this bloody nature without a fly swatter, or two.

Merlin, he would kill for his firebolt.

He'd also kill for his house elf, and though he loved her dearly, and owed her the world, if Hermione didn't like that thought she could just kiss his….

"Tell me about yourself, Harry, wizard who is lost," Legolas said, cutting through Harry's reverie, while halting and turning to look at him in a way that left Harry distinctly uncomfortable. As if he was being studied. Though not in a malicious way, no, more of a way that spoke of unlimited interest on Legolas' behalf.

Harry had never been one for being the center of attention to begin with, but now it was downright intimidating. Legolas frightened him in a way that he really didn't want to examine too thoroughly. He knew, if he tried, that he would find Legolas equally fascinating, he was already in the bulk of Harry's thoughts anyway, but if he let himself get swept up in Legolas, Harry had an odd sort of fear that it would alter him somehow. Alter his thinking, alter something inside of him, in a way that he would never recover from.

He had had enough of life altering experiences to last a lifetime, thank you kindly, and figured is was best to keep himself, to himself, so he could go back home safe and in one piece to the wonderment of 21st century living within the magical community, and Legolas could go back to his bow and arrowing.

Still it would be rude not to come up with some sort of response, and Harry was nothing if not a proper Englishman.

"Um, there's really not much to tell," Harry replied, practically feeling that infernal blush of his coming back, while simultaneously shuddering at his completely idiotic response. Sometimes he could really curse his mouth for speaking without consulting his brain beforehand.

Yes, he feared Legolas and this weird, instant, and overwhelming attraction type thing he felt towards him, but he didn't want to give the impression that he was an imbecile, that just wouldn't do.

He'd like to leave some sort of positive impression, for the sake of wizarding kind, of course.

"I seriously doubt that," Legolas breathed, his eyes sparkling as he flashed a grin in Harry's direction.

And Harry felt his knees buckle. It was all so horribly cliché. The elf was too damn beautiful for his own good, and when he tried to lay on the charm Harry thought less of his bathtub at home with nice, warm, running water, and more about how trees and leaves were really not that bad, as long as they came hand in hand with elves.

"I would really like to know more about you, Harry," the elf requested softly, his expression displaying his earnestness for the world to see.

Harry knew then that he was well and truly fucked.

He should just give up now, peacefully, give the elf what he wanted, and hope that whatever happened didn't have the catastrophic fall out that everything in Harry's life, up to that point, had. But then, he was a Gryffindor, and the least he could do, for himself, if not for anyone else, is put up a token resistance.

"It's not a happy tale. I had a screwed up childhood, followed by a brief moment of happy realization into my identity, followed by war, followed by finding the portal here before I could really catch my breath. I'm a wizard, I like magic, have a few really good friends that I enjoy spending time with, and am too curious for my own good, thus my presence in this forest and our lives intercepting so oddly," Harry stated, hoping his voice didn't sound as hollow as it felt.

A brief glimpse at Legolas, and the sympathy, fascination and ever burning curiosity shining brightly in his eyes, had Harry turning his eyes to the ground and staring there.

It was the elf's fault for asking.

Harry felt the hand approaching his face before contact, that weird electric current that existed between them buzzing, and causing Harry's skin to pebble with goose bumps. When Legolas put his fingers under Harry's chin, moving his face up to look him in the eyes, the static jolted and burned, just as it had before, only more intense because the material of his shirt offered no buffer for the skin of his face. This time Legolas didn't look shocked by their chemistry, as he had earlier. He looked like he had expected it, and was happy, relieved even, to feel it again. His eyes refused to leave Harry's, arresting them, and Harry was too hypnotized to remind himself that he couldn't, wouldn't, get attached to anything in this godforsaken place.

"You have beautiful eyes," Legolas said with wonderment, staring at Harry as if he were the gorgeous one, as if he where the one to ethereal to be real.

Harry wondered if all elves were as loopy as this one.

"Thanks, I got them from my mother. Your eyes are nice, too," Harry said with a sigh, moving his face away from Legolas' touch, and the arrest of his eyes.

He never had been one for taking compliments well, they made him frightfully embarrassed. Hermione had always blamed his knee jerk reaction to them on the Dursley's, but Harry believed he'd have a hard time with them, screwed up childhood or not. When one complimented you, they were studying you, noticing you, and he had had enough of being scrutinized by people to last ten lifetimes.

Still, it felt different when it was Legolas doing the studying, not as annoying, not as imposing…

Home, home, home… that's what Harry needed. He needed moving pictures, brooms, and the constant bickering of his lovelorn friends. He needed fried fish on Wednesdays, and the mind exercise that came from figuring out ways to sneak out of his house while avoiding the reporters that sometimes camped in his front walkway.

But more than that he needed a shot of firewhiskey - anything to dull his senses and limit the effects that Legolas had on him.

For the first time in his life he wondered about the origin of alcohol and if they had it in the olden days… like ice age olden days, as any minute now he expected to stumble across a saber tooth tiger. Would this eclectic civilization of elves and thingamabobs, and he used the term 'civilization' loosely as he had yet to see a building, have such a thing as firewhiskey?

Legolas sighed, and though Harry's eyes were turned away from him, he could still feel the elf's gaze on him.

Apparently elves weren't anything if not persistent little, uh, _tall_ buggers. Harry had looked away, officially breaking the moment; apparently Legolas still needed to get that memo… figuratively speaking, of course, as they probably didn't have memos yet in this hellhole either.

"We should stop for the night, set up camp, we're a few hours away from my home, but it will be dark before that. Once morning comes we can finish the journey to my father's dwelling, gather supplies, and head to Rivendell, where Gandalf is visiting Lord Elrond," Legolas stated, finally moving his eyes away from Harry.

There were so many questions and exclamations that Harry wanted to make to Legolas' proclamation that he didn't know where to start. Stay the night? In the woods? Without a tent and with thingamabobs and potential saber tooth tigers lurking around? Who was Lord Elrond? And was this Rivendell place an actual town? With buildings, food, and more importantly, showers? Did Legolas' Northern Mirkwood home have such things as well? Harry really needed to wash the forest and clean air off of his body as soon as remotely possible.

But since he didn't want to look like a complete pansy in front of Legolas, Gryffindor reputation to uphold and all that, he left out any question dealing with his trepidation of settling down for the night to commune with nature, and settled for a…

"How long is the journey to Rivendell?"

Long being relative, of course. Long to a wizard meant something they couldn't apparate to, something they'd have to find other, wheeled, means of transportation to find. Harry had a sinking feeling that long in Middle Earth terms was actually as the word implied, _lo-ong_. Perhaps he was better off not knowing just how far Rivendell was and just how it was they were going to get there.

"It is not too long a journey. Indeed I think you might enjoy it," Legolas said, his eyes conveying his hope that Harry would, in fact, enjoy it. Which was about as bloody likely as Harry getting home to a dinner of Kreacher's famous beef stew within the next half an hour. It was a bummer that he'd be missing that, too. Kreacher always put curry in it, just as Harry liked it.

Still, there were times when you just had to accept fate and take it like a man, and this appeared to be one of those times. It wasn't like he could wave his wand and change his circumstance. Not even magic could accomplish that. Perhaps this whole thing could be chalked up to a lesson; locks, curses and spells were on doors for a reason. You'd have thought his first year experience with Fluffy and the stone would have taught him that.

And truly, he was appreciative that Legolas; a complete stranger not hours before, was taking Harry under his wing, willing to lead him on this journey, and help him out. The least he could do for the guy was keep his complaining to a minimum. The elf certainly didn't _have_ to assist him. Legolas was doing it out of the kindness of his heart. That kind of niceness, that willingness to help out someone in need, was a rare quality to posses. Harry would know. Niceness and his past didn't go hand in hand.

"I'm sure it's going to be great," Harry replied with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster.

He'd have to remember to use a shielding charm around he and Legolas tonight to keep from being trampled by a woolly mammoth in their sleep, and to, better yet, keep out any biting insects.

Harry sighed, categorically listing the spells he would need in order to ensure that his person, and Legolas, made it through the night, preferably without coming down with a medical condition. He turned to his companion, the offer of assistance in whatever the elf was doing to help them get set up on the tip of his tongue, when he caught sight of the elf picking up dry branches for what Harry assumed was to be a fire.

Well, perhaps he wouldn't be so much of a burden to Legolas after all. Manually picking up wood? Perish the thought.

"Um, there's a faster way to do that, you know," Harry stated, pulling his wand out of his back pocket and pointing it at several nearby scattered braches, "accio firewood."

In a flash Harry had a stack of perfectly burnable wood stacked neatly at his feet.

Legolas looked at the wood, then looked and Harry and then looked back to the wood and shook his head, a devilish grin spreading across his beautiful face.

"It's amazing you're as slender as you are, if all wizards are so categorically lazy as to use magic instead of garnering enjoyment from a little hard labor. Still, I'm not likely to complain. Magic the night away, my friend, you need to fatten up anyway," the elf said with shining eyes.

Harry felt his throat make a choking sound. The elf was… _teasing_ him? Elves had senses of humor? Sure, the statement wasn't really _that_ funny, but to tease? To have that potential there? Oh no. It was bad enough that Harry was already attracted to Legolas - the elf was _not_ allowed to have a sense of humor on top of being lovely.

Merlin, the fates must _really_ hate his guts.

'Home, home, home,' he repeated in his head, 'do not make eye contact with the elf; do not look in his direction. Think beef stew with curry,' and with that thought Harry looked around for something he could transfigure into a pint of firewhiskey and a pillow; the hell he was going to sleep with his head on the dirt.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

_A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode."  
"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione. ~Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling_

Chapter 3:

_*****_

Harry hated crickets. And birds. And anything that had the audacity to make noise at ungodly hours of the night. It was bad enough that they had the nerve to exist, but did they have to do it so loudly?

In a flash of temperament and impatience, Harry jumped from his makeshift bed to cast a silencing spell around he and Legolas… only to have the dulcet sound of joyful crickets continue to permeate the air.

The goddamn things were taunting him.

"Ugh! Stupid bloody insects," Harry exclaimed, rapidly looking around to hex the offending creatures only to come eye to eye with an amused, and quietly chuckling elf.

"They're millions of crickets in the forest, Harry," Legolas stated, eyes flashing brightly in the starlight, "whatever it is you just did probably has a cricket or two within the parameter of your spell."

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be cursing anyone who laughed at him, and cast aspersions on their parentage, and glare for good measure, but in the moonlight Legolas' skin glowed, and his hair shined like spun gold, and he looked so breathtakingly beautiful that Harry couldn't find a temper tantrum in him.

Which is was a bit of a bummer, he would have enjoyed having one. It would have been a good way to unwind. Since falling into this world, and meeting Legolas, he had felt his body tense tighter and tighter, contracting like a coil ready to spring.

"I can't sleep," he said instead, pitifully, but not really caring how he sounded, or appeared, just inexplicably searching for something from Legolas that he couldn't quite fathom or name.

"We can talk until we're both tired," Legolas suggested, looking very much like the cat who had just caught the canary.

Well fuck. He'd walked right into that one. He was too tired to care though, and too battle worn to worry about the ramifications of jabbering the night away with the only being that Harry had ever met that had affected him so strongly emotionally, aside from Voldemort.

Though even the thought of comparing the deep attraction he felt towards Legolas to the blinding hatred he felt towards Voldemort made him want to cast an 'obliviate' on his brain to eradicate such a comparison from ever being thought.

Harry wondered if he should conjure a bloody white flag to wave just to let Legolas know he'd won this round.

Fine.

They'd _talk_.

At least hearing Legolas' voice was better than the listening to the annoying fucking insects.

"What do you want to talk about then?" Harry asked, before he could censor himself. He immediately caught his gaffe though, and metaphorically wanted to beat his head against a table, er tree, like a house elf.

Why didn't he just hand Legolas a shovel so he could _help_ Harry dig his own grave?

The elf's smile got impossibly wider.

"Earlier you mentioned your childhood was difficult… why?" Legolas asked, looking the picture of interest.

Oh bloody hell, he had to start there. Instead of digging a grave he should just let Legolas knock him over the head with that shovel. Where in the world was a thingamabob to create a diversion when you needed one? He'd even settle for a saber tooth tiger.

He should have just sat back and taken the chippie chirping crickets.

"I'd rather not speak of that, if you don't mind," Harry replied, turning his head away to escape the disappointed in Legolas' eyes.

"We can speak of your past lovers instead," was the elf's immediate reply.

Oh of all the gods and goddesses, he was set up! The blond hadn't even paused between Harry's last response and his own. He'd had it planned. Give Harry two evils and have him pick the lesser…

The goddamned elf would have definitely been sorted into Slytherin house had he gone to Hogwarts.

"Right, so about my childhood…my relatives who raised me didn't like me much. They pretty much thought I was odd and went out of their way to make my life miserable. They don't like magic, or any person that has the potential to use it," Harry replied, unable to help the scowl that he knew was creeping across his face. How had he been manipulated so thoroughly? What was it about Legolas that got him to spill things that ought not be discussed or even thought about?

Bloody elf.

"They're intolerant. Of an Istari. That is unheard of," Legolas stated, a combination of understanding and disgust building in his eyes. For a minute it the elf's hand twitched towards his back, as he were instinctively moving to draw his bow and arrow and shoot those that offended him, in this case the Dursley's, which, considering that the Dursleys were in another world, would really be something.

Harry was oddly touched that his sad tale evoked that kind of reaction in the elf, which is something he didn't need to explore further, no sir, no matter the heat that started to pool in his stomach. Best let that sleeping dragon lie...

At least someone, or thing, would be getting sleep, even if metaphorically.

"Yes," Harry agreed sardonically, "intolerant," and narrow-minded, and gits, and possessing the combined intelligence of a teapot, but hey, Harry wasn't bitter. Though, he supposed, to be fair, that Dudley hadn't turned out nearly as intolerable as the other two. There was no hope for his aunt and uncle however, they would die contemptuous and mean.

"The war you spoke of?" Legolas continued hesitantly, almost as he was afraid to hear the answer. Harry didn't blame him. Who wanted to talk of war? Willingly? Without having several teeth extracted in torture beforehand?

"The war was… unpleasant," Harry replied, holding back a desperate chuckle when Legolas raised an eyebrow at him as if to say 'you don't say.'

"Basically, an abandoned and neglected orphan grew up to hate everybody and take his dissatisfaction with life out on the world," Harry grated out reluctantly. This was truly his least favorite subject, one he was loathed to talk about with anybody, though talking to Legolas was infinitely better than talking about it to Rita Skeeter. At least Legolas wasn't staring at Harry's scar the entire time.

"Unfortunately he turned out to be a powerful sociopath, so his anger issues became a huge problem for all involved. Eventually a seer prophesized that a baby born at the end of July would grow up to, uh, cause his downfall, and that baby turned out to be me," Harry continued, turning his eyes away from Legolas' face.

He hated talking about his part in war as if he were something special - a hero to the masses - as the entire wizarding expected him to keep on being regardless of his own wants and desires. What he wanted was to spend the rest of his life in front of a fire reading Quidditch Weekly, eating beef stew with curry, and occasionally coming out for a good fly on his broom and some sunshine. None of which coincided with his world's expectations. No. They couldn't just let him be: he had to continue his fight against evil, cure chronic medical conditions, initiate world peace, find another use for dragon's blood, and save little puppies from burning buildings... essentially become another Albus Dumbledore.

Sometimes Harry wondered if people could die from being stifled and having heady expectations too heavily placed upon them. Death by prospect. Which he supposed was better than death by prehistoric beast that he might meet here, but only marginally.

"So the past year my friends and I worked to destroy this guy, eventually succeeding about five months ago," Harry finished, relieved to be coming to the end of his tale, "since then I've been kind of keeping a low profile by exploring properties my godfather left to me. In one of those properties was a room with a portal that brought me here."

There was a light in Legolas' eyes when Harry lifted his gaze to look towards him; as if Legolas was grateful to hear the tale; grateful to solve a little more of the mystery Harry had brought into his life.

He looked at Harry as if Harry was the hero that everyone thought him to be.

That look, on Legolas, wasn't nearly as oppressive as it had been on the faces of those from his own world... Harry didn't want to examine the 'why' on that too closely, either. It was just another dragon that needed to sleep.

He seemed to be accumulating a lot of sleeping dragons here in 10,000 B.C. with Legolas.

"I'm sorry to hear that your past was traumatic for you," Legolas stated, standing and slowly walking to Harry as if drawn. "I'd take those painful memories away from you if I could."

Harry inhaled, deeply. Legolas was going to come sit by him, and probably touch him. And then Harry's skin would sizzle, tingle, and throb, and his heart would race, and he'd forget all about his past, future, and prehistoric alternate worlds. From there he'd lose himself in Legolas' eyes, and then he'd have to recite 'home, home, home' repeatedly in his head to remind himself that he didn't belong here and that he missed cricket-free concrete walkways, paved roads for miles and miles, and street lamps that lit up like Christmas.

Yet he couldn't make himself stop Legolas from approaching him if he tried.

The blond crouched down in front of him, and reached out with both hands to take Harry's hands into his.

And Harry's skin sizzled, tingled, and throbbed, and his heart raced, and he thought that despite being lost in Middle Earth, he was _more_ lost in Legolas.

It scared him more than anything ever had, even going to stand in front of Voldemort to die. Death was easy. Facing something unknown and heart-clenching was harder. To _feel_ this much had to be illegal.

He thought distantly that he'd have to remember to tell Hermione one day that Ron was right all those years ago… it _was_ possible to explode from feeling too much, no teaspoons necessary.

"I, uh, have to go relieve myself," Harry said, turning away from the elf and extracting his hands. Legolas did not try to stop him, just looked at him imploringly.

Harry walked far enough away that he was certain Legolas couldn't see him, placed the palms of his hands flat against a tree, and felt his body start to shake.

For minutes, hours, hell, it could have been eternity, he stood there, shaking bodily, and wishing for peace in his life that may never come.

After awhile he righted himself, rolled his shoulders, and turned to find a beautiful elf watching him closely. Harry couldn't help it, his breath caught. He didn't think anything could move him as much as the sight of Legolas in the starlight, looking towards him, strained, as if he were using a tremendous amount of willpower in keeping himself from touching Harry again.

"You were gone a good while, I didn't want you to be ambushed by Orcs," Legolas stated softly, as if that explained everything.

"Orcs?" Harry asked, wondering if this was some weird elf way to break the ice after an awkward moment.

"The beast you witnessed me hunt yesterday," the elf replied, looking at Harry uncertainly.

Oh, right. The thingamabob. Yes, best not be ambushed by Orcs. Nasty looking creatures.

"It's okay, Legolas."

And it was.

Amazingly enough, Harry realized that he didn't care that Legolas had just witnessed him having a semi breakdown. He guessed the weird chemistry between himself and the elf excluded embarrassment over moments of psychological weakness. Besides of which, if Harry had a knut for every embarrassing moment he'd had in front of an audience, he'd never have to touch either his Potter or Black vaults.

"We will arrive at our settlement within Mirkwood by midday," Legolas reminded Harry, compassionately letting everything pass, for now. "I'd like to introduce you to my father when we get there, I think the two you of will like each other."

There was a small, ironic kind of smile on Legolas' face, as if he were thinking of something amusing.

Harry knew then that if he wasn't screwed before, he certainly was now.

What could he say to that? No, I don't want to meet your father because I probably _will_ like him - he made you, after all? No I don't want to meet your father because I'll inevitably look for you within him, and gain a little more knowledge into your background? No I don't want to meet him because it would cement a little more familiarity between the two of us?

Legolas didn't deserve to have his feelings hurt because Harry was the constant butt of a cosmic joke.

There was only one correct, polite way to answer.

"Sure, I'd like that."

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

"_In a great cave some miles within the edge of Mirkwood on its eastern side there lived at this time their greatest king." ~The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien._

Chapter 4:

Harry wasn't above admitting he was wrong, particularly since he tended to be wrong rather frequently, as Hermione often liked to point out to him. But did the fates have to feed him a dose of humble pie so early in the day? He hadn't had any caffeine in over 24 hours, he needed some kind of break, here.

Mirkwood really was the most tremendous place he'd ever seen. And considering he'd gone to school in the most exceptional castle in all of Scotland, with ghosts, a lake and moving staircases, that was saying something. There was nothing prehistoric about this place. It looked like a fairytale. Like some kind of priceless impressionist painting right out of a dusty, crusty museum.

Admittedly, when Legolas had led him to the entrance of a cave, Harry had been a bit skeptical. Point of fact, he expected to enter the cave and find people dressed in animal skins, drawing hieroglyphs on the walls, and dancing around a campfire chanting 'ooga booga'.

Instead what greeted him was beauty. Marble arches and columns, brightly tiled walkways, amazingly detailed sculptures, and flowered plants that grew vibrantly and filled the palace with a pleasing fragrance. The sounds of music filled the air, and the voice of angels, well, angelic-like elves, sang out into stillness. He'd left cricket-chirping, thingamabob-wielding, tree-growing hell and entered a little slice of heaven.

Harry didn't understand why Legolas ever went outside. Honestly.

If he had had this kind of option, daily, to stay here and listen to music, or go outside and commune with nature, he knew he'd lose any semblance of a tan by staying indoors.

Why couldn't the portal have dropped him off here, directly? The damn thing had to have been an object built by the Blacks if it preferred to drop innocent people off in dirt, leaves and bugs, rather than in warmth and beauty. If it wasn't confirmed before, it was confirmed now… Sirius' family had been composed of some truly fucked up individuals.

Harry turned from his inspection to find Legolas watching his face closely, monitoring his reaction, and Harry couldn't help but flash him a grin, lost in his enthusiasm and relieved to be in some place clean.

"Your home is brilliant!" he exclaimed, and felt that familiar warmth spread from his heart to his limbs when Legolas answered with a returning smile.

"I'm glad you like it," the elf replied.

In that moment something passed between, something heady and startling. It was almost close to the feeling Harry got whenever Legolas touched him, only less pronounced, and Harry was forced to look away, briefly, to break their eye contact, because the feeling was just as daunting as every other experience he'd ever felt with Legolas.

This _thing_ between them was truly intimidating if it no longer required touch to activate it, if simply meeting each others gaze could effect Harry almost as diligently.

He instantly hated himself for looking away. He didn't know why, couldn't understand why the familiarity and electrical current he felt with Legolas scared him quite so profoundly. But it did.

He really must be the biggest chicken to have ever come out of Gryffindor house… aside from Peter Pettigrew. The elf made him feel things. Made him want things. Made him want to lose himself...

Losing himself was not something Harry would take sitting down. Ever.

Legolas turned away from him with a sigh, a look of frustration building in his eyes. It was the first look of impatience Harry had received from the elf, and he didn't like it. It gave his heart a solid jolt.

He didn't want to intentionally hurt Legolas, he'd never want that. But he didn't like hurting himself either, and giving in to the elf's odd fascination with him only boded heartbreak.

'Home, home, home.'

He had his own house to go home to. One not nearly as fancy as this, but his nonetheless. With a crackling fire, his invisibility cloak hanging on a coat rack, and his shoes piled neatly by the door. After a childhood of owning nothing, it was the best thing Harry could have asked for.

"Come this way," Legolas requested, his voice so very obviously struggling to remain neutral and unaffected by Harry's slight, while turning and leading him down a series of paths until they reached a great hall, with a throne in the middle. Harry wondered idly if he had just reached the elven equivalent of King Authur's court. The bows and arrows that Legolas carried on his back were certainly fitting of that image. Though asking Legolas if he had some knights and a round table would be a joke that would undoubtedly go over the elf's head.

It sucked not being able to use random bits of pop culture to break tension.

In the throne sat the elf who Harry assumed was Legolas' father.

The elder elf stood upon seeing his son enter, and he approached Legolas with a hug, and an obvious look of fondness that had Harry flinching with a slight pang of jealousy, but also filled his heart with warmth. He was glad that Legolas was so clearly loved. It must be nice to be able to come home to someone who greeted you like that - with obvious affection. He wondered if he would ever have something like that for himself. A family to come home to…

Harry was startled out of his reverie by the faint sound of Legolas and his father quietly conversing in elvish tongue, and then both turned towards him suddenly, one eyeing him with open longing, and the other with burning curiosity - less than subtly assessing.

He was too nervous to be put out by the fact that they had been obviously talking about him behind his back. He was meeting a king, after all. Not an everyday experience.

The elder of the two strode forward to approach Harry, and he finally got a good look at the man Legolas had been so longing for him to meet…

The tall, blonde, good-looking man that Legolas had wanted him to meet.

This was Legolas' father?! The guy couldn't have been over forty, and even that was stretching it. No wonder Ponce de Leon had never found the fountain of youth, he had obviously been looking in the wrong bloody world. What, did the king have Legolas as a teenager?

Harry could definitely see where Legolas got his looks from, his father had the same shiny sun-kissed hair, the same brilliant blue eyes, and the same smile that could kill with kindness or fierceness.

By Merlin this family had some good genes.

"Harry, my fine Istari, it's wonderful to finally meet you! I've been waiting nearly 3000 years after all. I was beginning to think I'd never see the day. Legolas is infamously selective about who receives his attention," the king announced boisterously.

"Ada, stop!" Legolas yelled in a panic, clearly anxious. But Harry could only put Legolas' protest in the back of his mind, as his thoughts were preoccupied by what the king had said.

Had the elder elf just said three thousand years? As in three, zero, zero, zero? Was that some kind of weird elven euphemism for 'I've wanted to meet you for a great long while'? And if so, how in the hell had the king known that Harry had been coming?

"It's nice to meet you, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know what you mean by waiting three thousand years or why my arrival would be expected. I didn't even know I was coming to Middle Earth, it was quite by accident," Harry replied uncertainly.

This was, bar none, the strangest conversation he had ever been a part of. Even weirder than anything Luna could come up with on her good days.

Was this some kind of test? Call out some outrageous phrases and see if the stranger caught on to them? Were they trying to assess his intelligence or something? Or was this the common introductory process in elven courts?

Middle Earth kept getting stranger and stranger.

Harry almost, but not quite, wished for the hieroglyphs and Neanderthals he had previously thought he'd find here. At least then he would have felt a little more secure in his place on the evolutionary chart.

"He doesn't know, Ada, I haven't had the chance to tell him," Legolas informed his father quietly, his eyes pleading with his father to shut-up. Harry recognized that look, it was a look that Hermione often gave Ron when he was running himself off of the mouth, as Ron was prone to do.

"Well, why not? It is a great honor that the Valar has bestowed upon the two of you. A remarkable honor. Quite rare. This young Istari should feel privileged," the king replied, decidedly not quieting his voice, and either purposely ignoring his son's discomfort, or truly baffled by Legolas' distress, Harry couldn't tell which. All he knew was that he had a sinking feeling growing and expanding in the pit of his belly.

Nothing involving great honors, or rareness, or bestowment could ever be considered good in regards to Harry's notorious penchant for bad luck.

Legolas must have sense he wasn't going to quiet his father, because he interjected the conversation with something he obviously knew would distract the king from his current talkativeness. Bless him. In that moment Harry could have kissed him, because he had the feeling he really wouldn't have liked what the king was about to reveal.

Ignorance was bliss. He'd learned that the hard way during the war.

He'd get home, have some left over beef stew with curry and a pint or three of firewhiskey and none of this would matter. It would all be a dream.

"Elves are immortal, Harry, my father was hinting that I am roughly 2930 years old," Legolas said.

Fountain of youth, indeed.

Wow. Immortal. Now that was something you didn't hear everyday. Voldemort would have loved to be an elf.

How in the hell was he to respond to that? _'Um, that's great. How's that working out for you? Boy, you must have a lot of free time.'_

Was there even etiquette for someone telling you they are immortal? That would certainly make an interesting handbook.

"Um, that's great. I mean, wow. 2930. No wonder you're so handy with that bow and arrow. Must have put in a lot of practice, huh?"

Which yes, admittedly, sounded lame to Harry's own ears, but he was severely out of his depth here, they were lucky he remembered how to speak at all.

"As an Istari aren't you immortal as well?" the king asked, confused.

To be fair to the king, Harry was also confused, he still didn't know what in the hell an Istari _was_. He had assumed, when Legolas had called _him_ one, that it meant wizard, but now he wasn't so sure. Last time Harry checked he was certainly not immortal. He would have definitely remembered _that_.

"I'm not sure about Istaries, but wizards aren't immortal. I mean, wizards live longer than non-magical people, yes, but we're not immortal," Harry explained.

Yup, definitely the weirdest conversation he had ever had. Bar none.

"The magic users of this world are immortal," Legolas explained, turning to Harry, a look of worry in his eyes, "if you are here by the grace of the Valar, and I feel you are since they are the only ones who can create portals like the one you spoke of, then you may be too, even if you were not in the world you came from. But this would just be a guess, Gandalf would be able to shed more light on the subject."

If Harry was speechless before, he _really_ was now.

Truly, the immortality issue wasn't important anyway. Harry was going to see Gandalf to go home, not discuss the pros and cons of Earth versus Middle Earth, and the life span of the people who resided here.

But there was something in all of this truly bothering him…

Who the fuck where the Valar supposed to be?

Were they some kind of wizarding government here?

He'd like to have a few words with these _Valar_ if they were the ones responsible for the portal that had brought him here. Perhaps he'd been premature in cursing Sirius' odd relations.

"Yes, yes, time will tell, Gandalf should be of great help, he always is," the king agreed, obviously eager to get on with subject. "But before you journey to Rivendell we should announce the betrothal."

"Ada!" Legolas shouted, looking completely panicked.

"Um, who's getting betrothed?" Harry asked, only halfway paying attention, his mind was still on the Valar and how assuming they must be to create portals between worlds to begin with. What if someone was perfectly fine with the world they had been in? Had the Valar thought of that? True, it was Harry's own fault for entering the portal on his side, but the fact that someone had deliberately created it, making it possible for him to enter it, alleviated a lot of his earlier self-chastisement. The Valar were clearly equally responsible.

Besides of which, they shouldn't just go around opening portals. What if someone evil had come through, like Voldemort searching for immortality? They were lucky it was Harry, and not someone more menacing. _Legolas_ was lucky it was Harry and not someone more menacing. It broke Harry's heart to think of a Death Eater being the one to stumble across the handsome, stalwart Legolas in the woods with only his bow and arrow set to protect him.

"My dear Istari," the king replied, "you are. You're my son's soulmate, they are rare, it is a truly blessing to find such a union. There hasn't been such a pair in centuries. Naturally you will be betrothed."

Silence wracked the great hall they resided in, Legolas looking pleadingly at Harry, silently begging him for something Harry couldn't quite comprehend, but Harry wasn't comprehending much of anything.

The bottom of Harry's world had just fallen out.

With blood pounding in his ears, and his instincts screaming at him to fight or fly, Harry did the only thing he could think to do, he drew his wand and apparated himself out of the cave, into the woods beyond it, and then he ran.

'_There is no such thing as soulmates, and I don't want or need one. I don't need anybody. I just want to go home.'_

Not even the memory of Legolas' sizzling touch could lessen the diligence in which Harry wanted to believe his own thoughts.

To be continued...

Notes: Since there were a lot of questions centered on the last chapter, I created a forum. Please click the forum link in my profile for fic discussion. Everyone is welcome, in fact, more than welcome - I'd love to get questions or discuss this fic and my others. I will try to respond and answer all questions, as long as they don't give away future events for the story. :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

It was strange how just the night before Harry had been irked by the sounds of the forest intruding on his ability to sleep when, as he ran through it now, he couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart and his own labored breathing.

He didn't know how far he had run, or where he was running to, but the adrenaline pumping through his body kept him moving forward, breaths coming out in labored pants, muscles straining and screaming, his mind fuzzy and dazed, as if the ability to focus on a single thought had somehow escaped him.

What he could recognize, what he did know, was that he could not stop, because stopping meant that he would be captive. Stopping meant he'd be lost forever to a world he didn't know, and in a love that had the power to consume him wholly.

Through his haze Harry heard a whirring sound, and felt a rapid gush of air against his arm and saw an arrow sailing by into the tree before him, burying itself in the trunk. He didn't see until it was too late that the arrow had a rope attached to it, and that he had no time to stop his body from barreling into the line made by the rope, bouncing back and falling in a clump on the ground.

Legolas had trapped him.

Shaking too heavily to stand, Harry did the only thing he could do, he wrapped his arms around himself and called out…

"I want to be left alone, Legolas!"

"That's not going to happen," came an angry reply, and Harry looked up to find the blond rapidly approaching him, eyes black with dilation, and skin flushed pink with temperament.

It didn't take deep thought or the ability to focus to recognize that Legolas was one pissed-off elf.

Legolas' anger sparked his own.

"What gives you the bloody right to come after me? To keep secrets from me, and then expect me to just roll over and take it when its revealed. News flash, elf, we barely know each other and this is not my world," Harry stated in a grated voice, using his shaking hands to push himself up off the ground and meet Legolas' gaze directly.

When their eyes met Harry felt a jolt go through him, as if he had been struck by lightening, only instead of being intimidated by it, it only fuelled the turbulent swell of his emotions.

"It is true we have only known each other but a day, but in that time I have done nothing to merit your treatment of me, nothing to merit you pulling away from my touch as if I were an orc," Legolas replied, eyes flashing. "I did not want you to find out the way that you did. I had wished to wait until a time when I thought you would be more accepting, but regardless of when the news broke, the fact of the matter is that we are meant for one another, our souls are one, there will never be another for me and there will never be another for you, and that frightens you. Instead of asking me questions and trying to get to know me, you're acting like a coward and pulling away."

Harry couldn't help it, he flinched. Legolas' words stung. Partly because a part of him recognized, himself, that yes, he had indeed been running from the intimidating bond that had instantly formed between the two of them, and partly because he was disgusted with himself for doing it. Harry had never run from anything in the past, why would the thought of a soulmate scare him when Voldemort hadn't? When death hadn't?

"I'm protecting myself and you! I cannot become attached to you. I cannot become betrothed to you. This is not my world, I am here by accident," Harry reiterated, both for his own sake, and for Legolas'. Surely logic could get him out of this mess, out of this emotional cesspool of discomfort. He was going to explode from feeling so much, he just _was_.

"I have friends and a life back home," Harry continued, wrapping his arms tight around his torso and drawing into himself. "I know nothing of elves or orcs, every time you mention something like the Valar or the Istari I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no property here, I have no clothing here, hell, I don't even have lunch! Once again I'm little Harry Potter being thrust into a new world with no knowledge of it, and secrets around everywhere. I did it once, I can't do it again. The last time I did it nearly took everything I had. It took away my choices. It took away the future I could have had, some semblance of normalcy. I had a prophecy over my head, I had to fight someone to the death. And now I come here and once again I have no choice. I am fated for someone. I have found the other half of my soul. Well, that's just great, but it doesn't leave me with very many options about how to live my life or where I want to live it, does it? You, you have little to lose, I came to you, but me, I have everything to lose. I have to reinvent myself, again. I have to give up everything I know. Everything that is familiar to me."

By the end of his tirade Harry was shouting, but he couldn't make himself stop, and his body was trembling, but he couldn't make that stop either. He knew, distantly, that he sounded like a stark raving lunatic but he couldn't help it.

Here he was in a new world, again, with no prior knowledge of it, again, and he was expected to adapt, as he had everything else in his life, as he had the last time he'd been introduced to a shiny, new world that appeared wondrous at first only to have the ugly side come out later. He was expected to roll over like a bitch and give in, as he had been forced to do when introduced to the wizarding world, moving along with whatever fate had planned for him without any reparations for his damaged psyche. Well fate, and Legolas, could just kiss his arse.

He would not let himself get attached to Middle Earth, he could not get attached to Legolas, because ultimately he'd stumble into a portal that would take him somewhere else, or have a wonderful, friendly half-giant come to take him away, telling him that his life, up to that point, had all been a lie, and he was _really_ meant to live in the land of Oz with the munchkins, or in Oompa Loompa land with the Oompa Loompas… After wizards, orcs and elves, none of that would really surprise him.

Harry wondered if he was losing it. If the Dursley's occasionally starving him had addled his brain, and all of it: the wizarding world, Hogwarts, Voldemort, and Middle Earth where just some elaborate fantasy he was living in, worlds he had invented in his mind to escape his harsh reality.

Besides which, a soulmate: someone meant just for you, someone whose heart was meant to love you wholly, was too brilliant a concept to be real. There had to be a catch. There was _always_ a catch.

Legolas wanted to think he was a coward, fine. Harry could put up with being called a coward for the only things in life he really wanted… peace, tranquility, and the certainty of a future of his own choosing.

He couldn't live by the seat of his pants anymore, he couldn't lose everyone in his life anymore, he couldn't take any more fucking surprises!

Harry's mental tirade was halted, with the feeling of being pushed forcefully against a tree, and a firm, hard, _wonderful _body pressing against his own. A knee went between his legs, placing a muscular thigh against his groin, and before he could blink, sputter or ask 'the hell?!' a soft mouth descended onto his, sending his mind reeling.

Harry felt as if a powerful tsunami had come and swept him out to sea. He was drowning, so sweetly and exquisitely in the heat that pooled between Legolas' body and his own. His heart swelled in his chest, blood swam to his groin and to his brain, and electrical currents swept through his limbs, causing his toes to curl and his skin to tingle. He felt his body tremble and ripple, and his mind fly, and he knew, just then, that soulmates, as impossible a concept as it seemed, way too good to be real, were just that.

Something inside Harry clinched, like the jagged edges of a zipper coming together to fill crevices and spaces that had previously been vacant.

And when his mouth opened as if by instinct, and a warm tongue came in to dance with his own, he felt his heart balloon with untainted longing to love and be loved. In Legolas' arms, and under his body and tongue, Harry felt peace and tranquility, and also pure, unadulterated lust.

It was the single most profound moment of his life. It was also the most heartbreaking.

He was going to fall for Legolas, he knew now that it was inevitable. He would fall, and he would fall fully, and it would change him irrevocably. The Harry Potter he was before coming to Middle Earth would cease to exist and a new one would take his place.

The shields around his heart and mind were cracking like a fragile egg shell. The same shell he had accumulated with each death he had lived through during the war, starting with Sirius and ending with Remus.

Saltwater gathered in his eyes, but he refused, _refused_, to let his tears spill. Crying never accomplished anything but a terrible headache afterwards. And he didn't have a pain relief potion on him. Nor did he have a cauldron to make one.

He was being nonsensical, and he knew it, but he had never felt so astonished and lost in all his life.

Legolas pulled back, looked deeply into Harry's eyes, and smiled softly, sadly, his hand coming up to cup Harry's cheek. And Harry's face sizzled and quivered where Legolas touched his skin.

"I would give up this world for you. I would give up everything I know for the chance to hold you against my body for eternity," Legolas said softly, his eyes shining with truth "I know your life was bad, I know that you are broken, I pressed to get that information from you, but please, just give us a chance. You're here, now, no matter what the circumstances are that brought you here, and you were placed directly in my path. We were meant to find each other, and I am meant to love you as no one else has. Please let me try. I want to try, Harry."

What could Harry say to that, no, he didn't want to be loved? He'd wanted that his whole life. No, he didn't want to be held? He'd wanted that his whole life, too.

"I'm sorry I ran from you," he told Legolas, meaning it with everything left in him, which didn't feel like much but perhaps he could start to put himself back together somehow, after all, "finding out that I had a soulmate and that said soulmate's father was already planning a marriage, on top of arriving in this strange cricket inhabited world to begin with, was a bit of a shock."

Harry could feel himself give Legolas his sheepish, lopsided grin, and knew he probably looked dorky, but couldn't really prevent that either.

"Its alright," Legolas replied with a returning smile, his fingers coming up to play with strands of Harry's hair, and Harry preened under the glorious tingling this left in his scalp. "To an elf a soulmate bond is an immense honor. It is held in high regard. My father was right, they are very rare. To be the recipient of one is truly a blessing. He can't fathom why someone would be hesitant to celebrate such a finding."

"Oh," Harry replied uncertainly, wondering if he'd pissed the king off. He wasn't in too big of a hurry to return to the palace if that was the case, that much was certain. Despite everything he'd been through, he did _like_ living and would like to remain in a state of breathing.

"Harry, I wont push you for a betrothal, I know this is going to take time and that we still need to go to Gandalf to get answers, but are you willing to give me a chance? I promise I'll do everything in my power to protect your heart," Legolas said, taking one of Harry's hands into both of his, and bring it up to his own face to rub against his cheek. "And if you give Middle Earth a chance you might like it. There are other towns, other communities. This forest is just one location of many. I think you'll like Rivendell, it is beautiful."

After seeing the Mirkwood cave, Harry believed that. The elves sure knew splendor, he'd say that for them.

But nothing was more beautiful than the elves themselves, particularly the one in front of him. Just the sight of Legolas caused his heart to clench.

"Okay," he said simply, because he would be an idiot to think that he could live without the taste of Legolas on his lips and tongue now that he'd sampled it.

It was crazy, it was insane. His friends were all waiting for him in another world. In fact, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley's were probably worried sick. Or would be once they realized that he wasn't showing up for Sunday bangers and mash at the Burrow. They had only recently lost Fred, he wasn't sure what his disappearance would do to them.

He didn't know what he could do about that, though. Legolas was right, he was here now, and perhaps it was time that he started accepting that fact in case there was the possibility that he might never have the choice to return to wizarding England. Like it or not, fate had led him here, for better or for worse. For at least the immediate future, he had to embrace that or go mad.

The smile Legolas gave him just then was the most beautiful look he'd seen on the elf to date, and he made a mental note that he needed to get Legolas to smile so wholly more often.

Legolas wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, and lifted him up off the ground, exhilaration shining like light in his eyes.

"Oh how I'm going to love you," he breathed, burying his face in Harry's hair and inhaling deeply.

And Harry wondered if it was strange to feel so happy after the emotional upheaval he'd been through the past day. Which reminded him…

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?" Harry teased the elf, smiling broadly to show he was joking.

Legolas snorted into Harry's hair.

"And you should look in a lake and tell me whose reflection you see there," Legolas replied.

Harry figured that was the elven way of saying, 'takes one to know one'.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I'm so excited and just giddy at the wonderful responses and encouragement I've received for this story. You guys and gals are fabulous! Thanks so much to everybody who has responded. I've been feeling slightly ill for the past few days, and wasn't going to write another chapter so soon after the last, but your reviews inspired me. This chapter is dedicated to all of you. :-)

*****

Chapter 6:

"We must return to the palace," Legolas mumbled into Harry's ear, softly placing a small kiss on the skin of Harry's neck before pulling away, and Harry allowed himself to bask in the overwhelming warming and tingling sensation Legolas' lips had elicited before taking a step back himself and forcefully pulling his mind to the present.

If anything could kill the buzz that contact with Legolas had caused, it was the thought of facing Legolas' father after having run away so rudely.

Harry sighed. He realized that he couldn't avoid the king forever, particularly because the older elf was Legolas' dear ol' dad, but was one night too much to ask for? Given a choice between crickets, Orc-thingamabobs, and saber tooth tigers, or facing a ticked off king of elves and protective father, Harry would take the tigers. His chance of survival had to be a little more stacked in his favor that way.

Hopefully there were laws that protected strangers from other worlds being imprisoned for bolting, though one could never be too safe…

"Hey Legolas, your father isn't going to, uh, throw me in the dungeons for disappearing out of there like that, will he," Harry asked, only halfway joking. He really did want to know the answer to that before he committed to heading anywhere, soulmate or no soulmate.

"I'll come visit you often," Legolas replied, throwing Harry a saucy grin to show he was teasing.

Saucy grins on Legolas should definitely be illegal, and Harry was grateful he had the thought of facing a potentially irate king distracting him to prevent him from getting swoony and girl-like; it wouldn't do a bit of good for his male ego.

"I'd never surrender! You'd have to catch me first," Harry taunted, taking his wand from his back pocket and brandishing it in front of Legolas' face with his own saucy grin.

The blond elf simply raised an eyebrow, then, quick as lightening reached out and grabbed both of Harry's wrists, including the one holding the wand, while simultaneously pushing Harry back against the same tree they had kissed against earlier.

"I've caught you, and I'm not inclined to let you go," Legolas answered, the teasing light falling out of his gaze as he caught Harry's eyes, lust shining through the brilliant blue, as he leaned in closer...

"Ernil! Ernil!" a panicked voice interrupted the moment, sending Harry and Legolas flying apart, "the creature has escaped! We took him out to allow him to walk around, and were attacked by orcs. He was able to slip away during the struggle."

Before Harry could open his mouth to ask a description of said creature from the approaching elves, in order to assess if there was height, mass, teeth and man-eating involved, he heard Legolas whisper the word "Gollum", and figured, due to the tension in the blond elf's voice that this Gollum-thing escaping was a bad thing.

Definitely teeth then, and to think he'd just begun to warm up to Middle Earth.

Harry sighed. Typical. So bloody typical of his life that he wasn't even remotely shocked or horrified. To bad the sorting hat, Fawkes, and the sword of Gryffindor were in another world, it sounded like he and Legolas could use all three.

"I must go talk to my father immediately," Legolas stated, turning towards Harry.

"Okay," Harry agreed, because there was really nothing else he could say, "on the way can you tell me what a Gollum is? If I'm going to save you from unsavory life forms, I'd like to know what I'm up against."

And like a damn breaking, the tension broke, and Legolas laughed, his eyes shining to show his appreciation towards Harry as his shoulders fell from their tensioned tight state.

"I do not think either one of us should be too concerned with encountering Gollum. He's not so much of a threat to us - it is a ring he seeks," Legolas said, holding his hand out for Harry to take. "It is the ring we should be wearier of, for anyone who holds it, or is even in close proximity to it, will become overcome by its evil. Its owner's physical body was defeated, but the evil of the ring remains. And should we encounter any unsavory life forms, it is _I_ that will protect _you_."

'What do you think I am, a bloody damsel in distress?' was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but then his hand met Legolas' and that familiar electricity sparked, and Harry figured that if Legolas wanted to play macho, well, it was a damn turn on.

It was a bit of a novelty to have someone want to protect him, as Harry had always been more of the protector. Legolas was sweet for thinking he could, and Harry figured he'd save the knowledge that he was perfectly able to protect himself for a time when he wasn't so giddy by the actions and words of his soulmate, and thus couldn't lose the argument so effectively.

Instead he took a deep breath, trying calm his racing pulse, and form a coherent thought or two surrounding Legolas' description of the ring.

"The ring sounds like a horcrux," Harry stated once he knew he could speak without the tell-tale lust ridden tremor in his voice, turning to walk back to the palace, hand in hand with Legolas, the excitable guards trailing behind them.

"A what?" Legolas asked, turning to look at Harry shrewdly.

"A horcrux. My friends and I had to destroy a bunch of them in my world in order to take out Voldemort," Harry elaborated, feeling that tell-tale pang he always got whenever he thought of the past year, and the hell he, Hermione and Ron had gone through. He had hoped that he'd never have to see another horcrux, or even think of them again, for as long as he lived. Most especially since he'd been one - it was definitely a sore subject. "They're objects designed to hold a piece of someone's soul. An evil someone seeing as how you have to be a murderer to create one. Was this object created by a Dark Lord?"

"It was," Legolas answered, but before he could finish, Harry did it for him.

"And he wanted to rule the world," Harry stated dryly, and at Legolas' nod, Harry sighed. Apparently all Dark Lords had the same goal, and not an original thought between the lot of them. Was there a school for Dark Lords or something? Did they all take the same World Domination oath, kind of like all doctors took the Hippocratic Oath? 'I'm sorry, son, but you can't pass Dark Lord school until you've passed Power Hungry for Beginners and Power Hungry Intermediate with a passing grade.'

And what was it with Dark Lords and bespelling jewelry? Harry wondered if Legolas knew that a horcrux meant that his Dark Lord could potentially come back, but didn't have the heart to bring it up just then.

"Good gods and goddesses what is it with me and encountering possessed jewelry? I've already done the ring thing, and a locket and a diadem of all things! I mean, even in a different world there is a ring! What are the bloody odds?!" Harry asked rhetorically, and Legolas could only look at him curiously.

"This is a story you're going to tell me in more detail when we have the time, correct?" the blond elf asked, a protective gleam lighting his eyes, as he squeezed Harry's hand firmly.

If it were anyone else Harry would have immediately replied 'not on your life' and promptly turned away and maybe, given the situation and who did the asking, flipped a mental birdie, but with the squeeze of his hand, the current between the two of them sizzled anew, along with the memory of Legolas holding him close as if he were the most precious thing in either world, and Harry found he could no longer find it in him to deny Legolas anything.

The bloody elf was dangerous.

"Okay," Harry sighed again, this time in defeat.

The entrance to Legolas' palace cave was coming into view, but before they got any closer, Legolas turned, waving the guards ahead and brought his hand up to cup Harry's cheek, their bond sparking to life for the third time in so many minutes.

Harry felt his heart clench, again, and his mind become dizzy, as if under a spell. Even in somber moments Legolas was enchanting.

"I want to know everything about you, the good and the bad. Anything you encounter in the future, be it possessed or otherwise, I want to be there with you to fight; to protect you from harm. I wont see you scarred again, not if I can prevent it," Legolas vowed, his expression serious.

"Well then, you have you're work cut out for you, because you're up against my abysmal luck," Harry replied dryly, flashing Legolas a small, ironic grin to let him know he was joking… kind of.

"Then I will fight your luck," Legolas replied with his own small grin.

"And he says that as if undaunted," Harry told the universe, winking at Legolas all the same.

The blond elf just raised his eyebrows, smiled cockily, and turned to walk the rest of the way to King Thranduil's throne room.

When they arrived, Thranduil was already standing, conversing with the guards, his face drawn tight with tension.

He turned to Legolas when he saw his son enter the room, his eyes shining with relief when he saw Harry standing behind him. Harry let out the breath he'd been holding, it looked like he escaped the dungeon… this time.

"It looks like we will need to hasten your trip to Rivendell," the King told his son, "Elrond will need to be informed of Gollum's escape as soon as possible."

"I know, ada," Legolas nodded in affirmation, "Harry and I will leave in the morning."

"Good," the king replied, "I wish you safe journey, my ionn."

After a pause, the king turned to Harry, his smile becoming more guile. "I'm glad to see you returned unharmed and standing at my son's side."

"Uh, thanks," Harry replied, following that with a whispered, and he thought covert, "I think."

Legolas chuckled softly beside him. Harry guessed he wasn't being quite quiet or covert enough.

"Perhaps when you return then, we can get to know each other better," the king announced boisterously.

'Said the spider to the fly,' Harry replied, in his mind, this time; out loud he said, "Of course, that would be nice."

The king nodded, grinned and waved them on their way to prepare for their journey, and Legolas came up to him and grabbed his hand and Harry felt his knees buckle, but as overwhelming and all-encompassing as the feeling was, it was okay, because Legolas looked at him as if undeniably smitten and overwhelmed himself.

At least he wasn't alone on this strange journey.

"Come Harry, I will show you my rooms," Legolas stated, pulling Harry along.

"Is there a bath there, and perhaps some food?" Harry asked, reminding himself that he hadn't had to opportunity to wash in over twenty-four hours.

"Of course, all things designed for your comfort," the blond devil purred, eyeing Harry suggestively.

Yup, the bloody elf was _definitely_ dangerous.

"My prince," Harry flirted back, thinking that if the elf thought he'd tease without repercussions, he'd picked the wrong soulmate, "you wouldn't be trying to suggest something improper, would you?"

"Perhaps," Legolas grinned, pausing mid-stride to grin.

"I'm shocked and appalled by such behavior, and from a prince of elves no less," Harry in faux coyness, though in retrospect his heart was racing madly. His feelings for Legolas were overwhelming, and he could honestly say he'd never wanted anybody more than he did the blond elf, but to move so soon, to give Legolas that last part of himself he had to give, his virginity, after only knowing him for but a short while, soulmate or not, he wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. If just touching the elf was overwhelming, sex with the elf might just kill him, but it would definitely be the best way to go that Harry could think of – loads better than dying peacefully in one's sleep.

"Do not worry, Harry," Legolas stated, suddenly serious, as if sensing his soulmates' trepidation. "I perhaps should not have teased you so. Elves do not consummate their relationship until they are married. I wouldn't dishonor you that way."

Married? Was he kidding? He wasn't ready now, as in just this minute, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't be ready tomorrow or maybe the day after that. The betrothal thing was starting to look better and better. It figured he'd wind up in the world where the inhabitants had the morals of the bloody Puritans.

And had Legolas really been waiting 2930 years to… it boggled the mind.

Harry wondered how committed Legolas actually was to that 'wait till they're married' thing...

Later that evening, washed, fed, and truly content Harry walked into Legolas' room to find Legolas lounging on his bed, torso propped up by pillows, shirt mostly undone to reveal a muscled chest… Harry forgot to breathe.

Their eyes met, and the air in the room thickened with the undercurrent of the energy created by their bond, as it cackled in the air, its own living thing, and caused Harry to feel heady.

"Harry, come lay with me tonight, just to sleep," Legolas requested, his eyes imploring Harry to concede, as he opened his arms slightly to further invite Harry to him.

Betrothal sounded _really_ good. Damn but the elf was good. He didn't fight fair…

Not that Harry minded.

To be continued…

Ernil – Prince

Ada – father, dad

Ionn – son, scion


	7. Chapter 7

_"What's up? If it's massive spiders again I want to eat breakfast before-" ~ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling_

"_Old fat spider spinning in a tree!Old fat spider can't see me!Attercop! Attercop!Won't you stop,Stop your spinning and look at me!Old Tomnoddy, all big body,Old Tomnoddy can't spy me!Attercop! Attercop!Down you drop!You'll never catch me up your tree!" ~ The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien_

Chapter 7:

Two things permeated Harry's consciousness as he slowly awoke to the cusp of a new day during the soft stillness of early morning. One was that he was warm, and comfortable, and that elves were exothermic heat generators, and that everyone should have one… just not _his_ elf. Legolas was his heater - staked out, claimed and spoken for by risk of every hex at Harry's disposal should anyone test that. It was early morning, after all, and he hadn't had caffeine yet, all of which were things that made him cranky and possessive. The second thing he noticed was the soft sound of Legolas' tenor whispering wonderful things in his ear.

"I've been waiting for you for three thousand years. And all this time I kept wondering what kind of person you were and what you would be like, and you've surpassed anything I could have imagined. By the Valar you are beautiful, with hair as black as a starless night, and eyes as green as the leaves of the beech trees that scatter our forest. My name means green leaf, in Sindarin, my native tongue. I think my father must have foreseen that I would have you as a soulmate, for my name matches the color of your eyes," the voice gently told him, undoubtedly assuming that he was still asleep.

And while Harry could admit that it had to be the soppiest thing he had ever been privy to hearing during his short eighteen years of life, and had Legolas been born of Harry's world, he would have undoubtedly been a poet, or a greeting card writer; it was also the sweetest and most touching thing that Harry had ever heard.

It caused Harry's heart to race, and his blood to sing as it raced wildly through his body – just as everything else about Legolas did. In a way he guessed he was inwardly swooning, though he'd never, ever, under penalty of death, admit it aloud. He had a penis, thank you kindly, and was awfully proud of it. But maybe…

Perhaps he hadn't been cursed by another round of abysmal luck when he'd crossed the veil into Middle Earth. Perhaps the fates were finally rewarding him for good, well, mostly good, behavior. Legolas was truly the best reward Harry could have imagined. Except, of course, for that whole 'not have intercourse before marriage thing' because during the night Harry had gone from uncertainty of wanting to take that final step to wanting it fairly badly in what had to be an obvious way. There was no way Legolas could miss the hard length of Harry pressed between them, rising as steadily as the sun outside the elven palace…

Until Harry realized that his wasn't the only hard length demanding attention. A slow grin spread across Harry's face as he slowly opened his eyes. Oh, but he was going to have fun with this… elven morals, au revoir!

Quick as a flash Harry had Legolas on his back and was straddling him, rubbing their erections together as he gently ground down into the elf below him.

"Good morning, Legolas," he said, wincing slightly when his voice came out breathy, and only a tad high pitched, but pacified with the thought that he'd soon not care about much of anything but the beautiful elf pressed against him.

The pupils of Legolas' eyes dilated black with lust, and with reflexes just as fast, if not more so than Harry's, their positions were quickly switched.

The blond thrust down on him, hard, and Harry felt their bond spark and sizzle, red hot heat rising inside him, crashing across the length of his body, spreading like wildfire, as his back arched to meet Legolas' movement, melding their clothed forms together as close as was feasible, breaths coming out in labored pants.

It was exactly as Harry thought it could be, exactly the way it _should_ be, until he felt Legolas jump back away from him and off the bed, his chest heaving with untamed passion.

"Not until you marry me," the elf announced in a strained voice, his body shaking with his restraint.

For a brief moment, while watching Legolas fight to get in control of his passions, Harry felt guilty for instigating the encounter, until he reminded himself that he was a part of their relationship, too, and should also get a vote on when they had sex, at the very least.

"We've only known each other for going on three days, isn't it a bit soon to talk marriage? Sex on the hand, well, that doesn't take nearly as long to plan," Harry stated, using as much logic as he could muster while sitting there with a lust ridden body.

The bloody elf was trying to kill him. Death by repression - a truly horrible way to go. Right up there with death by rampaging hippogriff and drowning - twice.

"We are soulmates, our minds and our bodies were made for each other. There is no one else in any world who would fit me better than you, and I for you. How long we've known each other means little when you share a soul," Legolas stated, turning away from Harry while he collected himself.

Harry felt a brief pang, this must have been what Legolas had felt when Harry had kept turning away from him… he didn't like it. For now he'd let it drop, if only to get Legolas to look at him again.

"Okay," Harry said with a sigh, turning away himself, he didn't want Legolas to catch his very obvious disappointment, it wouldn't be fair to him.

Harry couldn't believe he had once thought Ron a moron for getting it on with Lavender in practically every corner of Hogwarts during their sixth year. In fact, secretly, in his head, he had wanted tease his friend relentlessly about being governed by his baser instincts, and had he not been so obsessed with finding out what Draco Malfoy had been up to he probably would have. It mattered little though as Hermione had been riding Ron about it enough for both of them - her jealousy plain to everybody _but_ Ron.

At the time, however, Harry had never been overcome by passion before, himself, and didn't know how potent it could be. How motivating. Either Legolas was going to have to bend, or he was, because Harry couldn't picture living with this amount of sexual tension for any length of time. He'd explode, no pun intended.

"I want to marry you," Legolas' voice broke Harry's reverie. "I want to spend eternity with you. Please think about that?"

"I'll think about it," Harry replied, and he would. It was his top priority, now that he knew Legolas, had tasted his lips and held him close, he couldn't really picture himself with any one else. He wasn't lying, it was his priority, right up there with finding out why he was here and what the Valar had to do with it, and how to get Legolas to bend, if even a little bit.

Harry wondered if _everything_ was outlawed, or just the intercourse itself… if not he could definitely work with that.

Legolas flashed Harry a brilliant grin at his concession, Harry's heart melted the way it always did when the elf smiled at him and the tension was broke. The battle was lost, but that didn't mean Harry was giving up the war, oh no, Legolas may have 2930 years of learned patience on him, but Harry was a Gryffindor, and that trumped everything in regards to stubborn resolve.

Later, after several farewells to Legolas' father, and packed for a long journey, as well as fed and dressed in some of Legolas clothing, magically shrunk to tailor fit to his own form, Harry eyed the horse that his soulmate had brought before him dubiously.

The inhabitants of Middle Earth needed to invent the automobile, seriously.

The creature turned and snorted at him, and Harry's only thought was to wonder if elves had brooms. Maybe he could magically enhance one to fly, because there was no way in hell…

"He's a great horse, Harry, he'll give you no trouble. Now come on, let's go," the blond elf announced, climbing atop his own horse.

Harry eyed the creature again, and the horse stomped his hooves, nodded his head and neighed, as if to say, 'come on buddy, make my day'.

It was all the challenge Harry needed. Harry was renown for his flying, and he had also ridden a temperamental hippogriff and an even _more_ temperamental dragon, the horse wouldn't know what hit, er, rode him.

He quickly climbed atop the animal, lightly tapped the horses sides with his feet, as he watched Legolas do with his, and quick as lightening his horse was off galloping after Legolas' and it… was… incredible. Harry felt the air rush through his hair, and saw the trees speed by them, and felt for the first time since arriving in Middle Earth as if he were flying.

His body moved in tangent with his horses movements naturally, and he patted the creature appreciatively on the neck to show that he hoped there was no hard feelings for his earlier misgivings. Why hadn't he tried this earlier? They had horses in his own world. To think he'd been missing out on this all his life.

On second thought the automobile was entirely overrated. Harry was an Englishman, he was born to ride a horse. Well, born to ride a horse and a handsome blond elf, but that was a thought for later.

They had been riding for what had to be about an hour when Harry saw something strange out of the corner of his eye. It was a large, human sized pod of some sort, or rather, not so much a pod as a chrysalis, as if a whole being were completely engulfed by silken thread.

Harry's stomach started to drop.

Looking up he saw a series of webs in the trees and saw the flash of several giant red eyes lowering towards them, and felt like he had all those years ago at twelve, surrounded by a thousand spiders, with his best friend paralyzed in fear beside him.

He'd rather face saber tooth tigers.

Good gods and goddesses, the _one_ part of his own world he could do without… well, considering there was a horcrux in this world, the _second_ thing from his world he could do without... Though he hated Daily Profit reporters more, so the _third_ thing he had hoped to leave behind, and Middle Earth just had to have some bloody big, giant spiders. His luck was beyond abysmal, it was bordering on just plain ridiculous! Truly fate owed him, and Legolas, as his soul mate and co-recipient of Harry's latest stream of bad luck, big.

"Aragog," Harry whispered.

"Descendants of Shelob," Legolas corrected, his hand already reaching behind him to draw his bow and arrow.

"Patato, patahto, tomato, tomahto, Aragog, Shelob… I think both names probably translate to the same thing in both of our langauges," Harry announced succinctly, drawing his wand, "big, fucking insects."

"Agreed," Legolas answered, drawing and shooting an arrow and hitting the creature lowering down to them right between the multiple eyes. Merlin but his soulmate was a good shot. Harry allowed himself a brief second to be impressed, before pointing his wand at the webs above and firing his first spell.

"Incendio," Harry called out, lighting the series of webs on fire and watching them burn rapidly, as if made by flammable material, which, in retrospect, might not have been the brightest move as dozens of burning spiders started to fall out of the tree tops.

"Harry, ride away, I will protect you," Legolas instructed, shooting arrow after arrow in rapid succession, Harry had never seen anyone move so fast. It was awe-inspiring.

"Not on your life, I've got to protect _you_," Harry replied, waving his arm to fire his next spell.

"Impedimenta," he yelled, significantly slowing the spiders down during their rush to get to them.

Legolas eyed him gratefully and Harry's heart clenched.

"I just want you safe, it would kill me to see you harmed," Legolas stated, speaking while shooting, never once slowing in his pursuit to kill every spider he could.

"It would be the same for me, you're not the only one in this relationship, you know," Harry replied before shouting, "Incarcerous," and watched as several thin, snake-like cords shot out of his wand to wrap around the spiders. After glancing back at the chrysalis, Harry thought that particular spell poetic justice.

As Harry's spell tied the spiders, Legolas shot them, and the number of insects started noticeably decreasing, to both of their relief. But they weren't out of the woods yet, literally or figuratively.

"I know I'm not, but I've been waiting too long for you to lose you now," Legolas countered, drawing his sword when his arrow supply ran short.

"Confringo!" Harry yelled, blasting a spider that was getting too close to Legolas into pieces, his heart pounding wildly at the thought of anything harming his soulmate. "I may not have waited three thousand years, but that doesn't make me any less happy to have you now."

"Do you really mean that?" Legolas asked, pausing from his defensive stance to look at Harry imploringly, his eyes wide and unfathomably deep. Harry felt dizzy, and his heart full, just taking them in.

He also felt a pang that he'd ever done anything to make Legolas be concerned that Harry didn't want him just as much as he wanted Harry.

"Yes," he responded honestly, wanting nothing more than to move forward and hug the elf soundly to him, even though it wasn't anywhere near the time and place.

Instead he blasted another spider.

Legolas returned to the battle with renewed vigor, stabbing spiders left and right, as if rejuvenated.

Harry wanted him, so bad.

Slowly the spiders started to retreat, their numbers suffering too greatly for them to further their pursuit of their prey, and Harry and Legolas collapsed in breathless exhaustion on the soft ground below them, their horses grazing not far from their masters.

"Legolas," Harry deadpanned, drawing the elf's gaze from the tree tops above back towards him, "our worlds are not so different from each other after all. In both worlds there's always something waiting around the corner to try to kill me."

Legolas smiled, an amused expression illuminating his face, his eyes lighting up to glow like a cloudless summer sky, as he snorted at his soulmate's blasé attitude at just being attacked by potentially lethal enemies.

"I know we've only known each other but a short while," Legolas replied, moving to brush a fallen lock of hair from Harry's eyes, "but Harry… I'm falling in love with you."

Harry grinned.

"Me too."

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Harry stared in concentration at the make-shift target Legolas had drawn on the tree before them, determined to hit the bull's-eye on the first try and wow all archerists everywhere with his natural ability, or, failing that, he'd settle for impressing the hell out of his elf boyfriend.

This small respite they were taking from their journey could be beneficial after all.

"Keep your arm straight, otherwise you'll get hit by the string during release, and when at full draw do not let your shoulder creep up to you ear, keep it steady," Legolas instructed, walking around his soulmate examining posture. "Point the elbow sideways, Harry, not down, do not let it stick out in the path of the string."

Harry hastily fixed the positing of his elbow and gave his soulmate a patent look of 'can I shoot now'.

Legolas, who had gotten adept at reading Harry's facial expressions over the past few days, nodded and stepped close to his soul mate's body, just behind, and bent down to place his chin on Harry's shoulder. And as always happened whenever they touched, Harry's heart rate increased and he got slightly dizzy.

Oh, _that_ wasn't distracting, not at all.

"Go ahead, Harry, shoot," Legolas encouraged, but just as Harry was about to release, the blond elf turned his head and placed a small kiss on the nap of Harry's neck. Fire spread throughout Harry's body, and his skin sizzled and tingled where Legolas' lips had met his neck.

The arrow went flying kamikaze into the trees, scattering birds who called out angrily into the sky for the rather violent disruption to their late afternoon nap.

"Legolas! What if I'd killed something!," Harry exclaimed, though lacking any real anger. How could he be angry when Legolas' kisses made him feel weak at the knees, no matter how inopportune the time they were bestowed?

"That is the whole idea," the blond elf said dryly.

"Okay, point. But what if I'd accidentally killed something _not_ evil and after our blood? Something cute, and fury? Wouldn't you feel guilty then, Mr. Vegetarian?" Harry couldn't help but rib, having found out through several meals with Legolas that elves did not eat meat of any kind.

"Intensely so," Legolas replied with a grin, "but since there is nothing that meets that description in the general area, I figured that fury creatures everywhere were safe from your warpath."

"What about you, Legolas?" Harry responded with a smirk, plotting his revenge. If the blond elf wanted to fool around, Harry was more than willing to accommodate. "Are you safe from my warpath?"

Turnabout was _always_ fair play.

Harry turned into Legolas' embrace, taking a brief second to bask in the instant heat that consumed him when Legolas' arms immediately moved to embrace him, as if by instinct. Then, without further pause, Harry started to pepper Legolas' neck with kisses.

The smell of his soulmate, all male husk, and sweet spice, and earthy undertone, as if Legolas himself were composed of the leaves he was named for, made Harry feel heady. And the electrical current between them sizzled to life, as it always did whenever they were close. The skin on Legolas' neck was scorching against Harry's lips, and he'd never felt anything more intoxicating than the touch, taste and feel of Legolas against him, skin against mouth.

Harry never wanted to move away.

Harry heard Legolas moan, and felt it as he shuddered, and he knew with a distant male satisfaction that he was doing that to his soulmate - that he was making Legolas come undone.

Until elven stubbornness once again reared it's ugly head and Harry was gently shoved away.

"Not until we're married," Legolas announced, though Harry was pleased to note that the elf's breathes were coming out in pants, and his body was shaking with untamed passion.

"You suck," Harry replied, trying, unsuccessfully to pull his own self together and calm his racing heart.

"I wont do that until we're married either," Legolas deadpanned, though the sarcasm lost its effectiveness with the deeply longing look he shot Harry with his eyes.

"You are the most exasperating elf I've ever met!" Harry announced, semi-annoyed, and semi-resigned to the fact that he had met his match in regards to stubborn resolve. Soulmate's indeed.

"You're the most beautiful Istari I've ever met," Legolas retorted with a small smile, clearly doing his best to lighten the moment.

"Men aren't beautiful, they're handsome in a very manly way," Harry responded, crossing his arms in irritation. He knew he was being difficult, but he couldn't help it. The unresolved sexual tension was making him a tad, just a tad mind, crabby.

And the fact that he had thought Legolas beautiful, exceptionally so, was besides the point. Harry reckoned that it was okay to be a hypocrite as long as it was done in the silent confines of one's own head.

"You are beautiful, man or not. My breath catches in my throat every time I look upon you. There is no other word as fitting for what you than the word _beautiful_," Legolas announced, his voice deadly serious as he eyed Harry with a somber expression.

If it were any other person in any other situation Harry would have replied with a sarcastic 'might want to crack open a dictionary then, I hear they're great for expanding one's vocabulary,' but it was Legolas, who Harry was falling more enamored with every day. In that moment any annoyance that Harry had flowed away from him like a waterfall. It seemed he was incapable of being irritated with his soulmate for too long.

It was kind of a bummer, too. There were times when Harry enjoyed just a little bit of justifiable anger, or at least justifiable to his mindset. It was weird that Legolas could snap him out of those moods so effectively. No one else had ever been able to.

If Legolas thought Harry beautiful, aspersions on his manhood or not, well, Harry wasn't going to complain. He was secretly rather thrilled that his soulmate found him attractive, not that he'd admit it out loud, reputation for stubborn arse to uphold and all that.

"I think you're getting us confused," Harry announced instead, "it is you who are stunning."

Legolas shook his head, whether in exasperation at Harry rebounding his compliment, or in amusement of Harry rebounding his compliment, Harry couldn't say. Before he could properly determine, Legolas was taking his hands, and the familiar warmth that generated from their touching washed over him anew.

"Come Harry, I think we're finished for the day, you can practice more on the bow tomorrow, for now we should set up camp for the night," Legolas stated, pulling Harry forward.

Harry figured that yes, that was a good idea.

Unresolved sexual tension left him both hungry and exhausted.

Later that evening, nestled comfortably in the arms of his soulmate, and within the safe confines of several wards that Harry himself had set so as not to be ambushed by giant arachnids or thingamabobs during the night, Harry heard a familiar voice in his head.

"Harry James Potter, where in the world are you?! You have everyone in a panic! Molly is about to have a nervous breakdown, you know how nervous she gets since Fred passed," Hermione scolded.

And as wonderful and relieving it was to hear Hermione's voice after so many days in Middle Earth, and after missing both of his best friends quite a bit, Hermione's lecturing mode always got his hackles raised. He was an adult for crying out loud. Sure, his curiosity had got the better of him and he had walked through a mysterious portal without thinking of long term ramifications, but that didn't merit a lecture.

Okay, perhaps it did, but Hermione didn't need to know he knew that.

"Gee Hermione, its so great to hear from you? How are you? How is your health? Mine's great, thanks for asking. Still alive despite nearly being eaten alive by giant spiders, but otherwise I'm just peachy. By the way, how are you in my head? Last time I checked I didn't have your horcrux in my brain, and you have to be close by to perform Legilimency," Harry asked dryly, enjoying imagining the exasperated expression he was sure his best friend was sporting back in England.

"A spell," Hermione answered, just as dryly, "how else? I will teach it to you when you get home. And while I'm glad you're still in one piece, which, knowing your luck, is an amazing feat, do you mind answering my question about your whereabouts, it would ease a lot of concern, you see."

"I'm in Middle Earth, Hermione," Harry announced, waiting a few seconds for Hermione to absorb that information… he couldn't wait to see how she'd interpret it.

He wasn't disappointed.

"You mean you're near the Equator? What country are you in then? Ecuador? Colombia? Brazil? Gabon? Congo? Kenya? Somalia? Indonesia…" his best friend trailed on, and Harry thought it best to interrupt before he got a complete geography lesson.

"No, Hermione, I'm in another world called Middle Earth," Harry replied.

By Merlin he missed her, there was no one else in any world as fun to rile.

"Harry, Earth is between Venus and Mars, there is no Middle Earth," Hermione responded succinctly.

"Great minds, Hermione, great minds," Harry said with a trace of irony.

"Besides of which the Earth is a sphere, there cannot be a middle earth because there is no higher and lower portion of the earth, a sphere is round, you see. Although the Earth is not a perfect sphere…," his best friend trailed on.

"Just a sec Hermione, I need to transfigure a teapot, and a battery-operated hot-plate in which to cook said tea, so I can have something to keep me awake while you depart information I already know," Harry teased. "Can we get back to the matter at hand please. Me, other dimension, you, not knowing that. There, Layman's terms."

"Just so you know, when you get back you are going to be hexed so badly not even Madam Pomfrey could put you back together again," Hermione threatened, though with great affection, before inquiring, "and how did you find yourself in another dimension? Or to put it in Layman's terms, what idiotic thing did you do this time, Harry?"

"Hey, I resent that. It wasn't idiocy, it was fate. I've met my soulmate I'll have you know, so me walking through a mysterious portal in that Black house in Stratford was destined," Harry defended himself, "by the way Hermione, I've met the most wonderful man, er elf."

Hermione sighed, though Harry could hear the amusement in her thoughts. She wasn't at all shocked by Harry's proclamation. Though Harry figured that after Professors with two heads, and giant snakes from mysterious chambers, and breaking into banks, and riding dragons, he had pretty much elapsed Hermione's shock reflexes ages ago.

"Only you, Harry, only you," his best friend replied, with clear affection. "Listen, due to your distance, which I admit is further than I thought you'd be, I can't keep the spell up that much longer, it's a tremendous strain on my magic. You can tell me all about lover boy, er elf, later, for now are you safe, and are you working on a way to get back? I can go to the Stratford house and see if I can work something out on my end."

"You wont be able to, I didn't have enough time to include you and Ron into the wards, you wont be able to get in," Harry muttered, distracted, his mind wondering on the possibility of Hermione finding a way for him to go back.

"I'm as safe as I can be considering that it is _me _we're talking about and my penchant for finding trouble seems to have followed me here," Harry continued assuredly. "As for getting back, I'm working on it, but Hermione…"

Harry paused to take a deep breath, because he knew she wouldn't like what he was about to say.

"What if I don't come back? Both because there might not be a way, or because I may decide to stay here?"

Just days ago such an idea would have been ludicrous, but Harry was falling for Legolas, and falling hard. And despite the spiders and thingamabobs and distinct lack of cement and beef stew with curry, Middle Earth was starting to grow on Harry. Not that he'd admit it to Legolas just yet. He was still too uncertain of his future.

There was also the fact that there was a horcrux in this world, and thus a Dark Lord with the potential to come back. Did he really want to face anything like that again? Did he really want to leave Legolas alone to face something like that by himself?

Despite Legolas claiming that he'd follow Harry back to his world, Harry could not picture Legolas in London - he couldn't picture Legolas on concrete. No, Legolas belonged to the earth, to nature, to Middle Earth. And Harry, well, Harry didn't know where he belonged. He'd never really belonged anywhere. The Muggle world had rejected him and the Wizarding world idolized him and placed him on a pedestal he could only fall down from - there was no happy medium to be found.

"Interesting," Hermione said, her voice thoughtful, "you must _really_ like this guy. I never thought you would be one to get so wrapped up in romance that you'd consider leaving Britain, you were always so bent on finding a home for yourself, that I thought that once your roots set you'd be immovable. But Harry, what I want, what Ron wants, what anyone who loves you wants is for you to be happy. If this 'soulmate' of yours makes you happy, then that is all that matters. Before making up your mind, however, I'd explore every possibility. You and this guy you've found are moving awfully fast if you're already considering staying in Middle Earth after only a few days."

Harry hated it when Hermione was always so logical about something weighing so heavily on his mind, he really did. But it is what Hermione did - she was the voice of reason. The one to always sit back and look at any issue objectively. She was honest and forthright and had Harry's best intentions in mind.

With that thought Harry could only reply, "Trust me, I'll think about it - it's _all_ I've been thinking about."

"Alright, Harry, take care, I'll try and contact you again in a few days," Hermione responded, "and please, for the love of Merlin, do stay out of trouble. Try to avoid any future entanglements with spiders if you can. I shudder to think of what you'll encounter next."

With that Harry felt her presence leave his mind, while his physical body felt itself being jostled.

"Harry, wake up! We're surrounded by Orcs!" he heard Legolas say in a startled voice.

Harry opened his eyes to find a large group of thingamabobs standing just outside his wards, staring at them menacingly, trying to break through the invisible shield - a shield that had gotten progressively weaker while Harry had been distracted by Hermione.

He and Legolas were so screwed.

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Harry eyed the beings in front of him wearily, a bit put off by the smell they were emanating. Why was it that fierce, bloodthirsty beings always had to look so horrible and smell even worse? It seemed to be nature's way of stereotyping. 'You're going to play the part of the evil henchmen, and you're going to look and smell the part.'

The thingamabobs were truly disgusting individuals. Persistent, as they fought steadily against Harry's waning wards without pause, Harry would give them that, but disgusting nonetheless. Harry didn't know what kind of fighters the things made, but they could certainly ugly or smell somebody to death.

More worrisome than their scent, however, was the fact that there were so many of them. There had to be about twenty of them surrounding he and Legolas.... which meant twenty times the odor and twenty times the ugly.

Where were giant spiders when you needed them? These guys would make a great snack for them while Harry and Legolas beat a hasty retreat. By gods and goddesses couldn't fates actually work _with_ him for once?! Was it really too much to ask? Didn't he have _any_ good karma saved up from that whole Voldemort fiasco?!

"Legolas, what's the elven word or equivalent for 'fuck'?," Harry inquired, wanting to vent in a way that all present parties would understand.

"I'll teach you Sindarin later," the blond elf replied, jumping to his feet and grabbing his bow and recently replenished bag of arrows. "Until then do you know any spells that can take out twenty Orcs in one blow?"

"Wish I did, it would be damn useful in any world, but unfortunately I don't," Harry responded, despondent, reaching into his back pocket to draw his wand, "I do know this, though, _Protego_!"

Instantly a shield popped up, replacing the falling wards, and buying he and Legolas more time.

"What are these things, exactly? Or is this one of those things that I'm better off not knowing? You know, ignorance is bliss - incapacitate first, ask questions later?" Harry inquired, flashing a taunting grin at the Orcs who were throwing their bodies against his shield, which only resulted in them throwing themselves even harder.

Obviously the thingamabobs weren't the sharpest tools in the shed. That certainly helped. It sucked when evil, malicious beings actually contained intelligence.

"Man-eaters, slaves of Morgoth," Legolas replied distractedly, drawing his bow.

"Of course they are, I mean, they couldn't come in peace and harmony to welcome me to their land and offer up some tea and crumpets - they'd have to be man-eaters. Right is the way of my life," Harry deadpanned, before turning to his soulmate. "I'm going to have to take the shield down before can shoot them. Tell me when you're ready."

"I'm ready," Legolas stated, a look of grim determination flashing bright in his eyes.

Harry liked that look on Legolas, a lot. It was so feral…

Physically shaking himself back into the present he waved his wand and called _Finite_ and _Rictusempra_ in rapid succession, causing the shield to fall and the Orcs to burst into body shaking laughter.

Legolas threw Harry an exasperated look.

"What?! I had short notice, give me break, here. It's occupying them for the moment, isn't it?" Harry defended himself with a wide grin.

Harry thought he heard Legolas murmur something equivalent to 'never a dull moment' but couldn't be certain. At any rate, the Orcs were fighting against their urges to laugh and moving shakily forward.

They _really_ were persistent little buggars.

Legolas starting shooting, one arrow after the other, hitting a target nearly every time, and Harry briefly allowed himself a moment to watch as the approaching Orcs started to fall, one by one, like the pieces to Ron's chess set.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Harry called out, freezing a handful of the closer ones, while Legolas shot those lagging further behind.

Harry noticed out of the corner of his eyes that a few of the Orcs had broken away from the others and were stealthily approaching Legolas from the side.

His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest, and he panicked at the thought of the _things_ getting too close to his soulmate.

"_Sectumsempra_," Harry called out, feeling the addicting power that came from using dark magic spreading throughout his body, washing him in heady determination. Several angry gashes and deep cuts appeared on the Orcs bodies as a result of the spell, but still they moved forward, driven by an unknown need.

Harry felt as if his heart had jumped to his throat. He couldn't let them get Legolas - he wouldn't.

The dark magic Harry had conjured by using the Sectumsempra spell swelled in his body, demanding release, his anger and fear at the thought of Legolas getting hurt fueling the proverbial fire.

No one or _thing_ hurt Legolas, no one.

"_Avada Kedavra_, _Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra,_" Harry called out, and a bright green light flashed from his wand, stunning all the remaining Orcs around them into stillness, while the three Orcs that had been approaching Legolas fell to the ground, instantly dead.

The Orcs remaining alive, stunned by such a display, decided wisely to play their odds and retreat, Legolas firing arrows into their backs as they turned and ran. All the while Harry stood there, looking down on his wand, stunned.

He had used the killing curse.

He had promised himself that he would never use that curse, not after the war. He hated it. Hated the power of it. Hated the reminder of the Dark Lord who had used it to kill Harry's parents and then also tried to use it to kill Harry, himself, several times. Harry had never wanted to see, or hear, or even reference it again, and yet he had done it. Delighted in doing it - did it with malicious glee.

He was scaring himself.

He didn't have a horcrux inside of him any longer. He no longer had that excuse for extreme anger, or for violent episodes. Any dark or malevolent part of his personality that manifested was a result of Harry's own soul, no longer driven by the influence of Voldemort.

Once Legolas noticed that something was off with his soulmate, he rushed to Harry's side, his hands coming up to grab Harry's arms.

Harry started to shake.

"Harry, what's wrong," Legolas asked, concern clouding his features.

"I just did something bad, Legolas," he choked out, his voice gruff and hollow.

"No you didn't, you saved me, Harry. I didn't see those Orcs coming. Thank you, thank you for saving my life," Legolas responded in earnest, stepping closer to Harry and taking him in his arms.

The warmth that spread through Harry's body at their contact contrasted mightily with the coldness he felt from his actions.

"I could have defended you in a different way, but I didn't. I panicked, and I used the most vile curse ever," Harry replied, his voice distant to his own ears.

It was the weirdest way to figure out that you loved somebody.

Harry wasn't just falling in love with Legolas - he was in love already. Loved him enough that the thought of losing him had pushed Harry over his natural revulsion to the killing curse in order to save him. And it wasn't just a matter of him wanting to save Legolas, no, he had wanted those beings exterminated for even thinking of harming his elf.

He had wanted them gone from existence.

You had to mean it for a dark curse to work. You had to want it.

Harry wished this revelation that he was in love hadn't come at such a cost. It was so damn frightening that Harry couldn't tell which way was up and down at the moment. The fear of loving someone that much, so much that you'd lose moral integrity for them, if only briefly, was overwhelming.

Harry wasn't sure which part of his feelings and actions frightened him more, the fact that Legolas had that kind of power over him, or the thought that he had felt justified in using the darkest magic in existence to protect the one he loved.

Both were sobering.

Having a soulmate was the greatest gift ever, but it did come at a cost. All love came at a cost.

A part of him, the instinctual part, wanted to run again. Wanted to Apparate away from Legolas, as he had before, and find somewhere private to lick his proverbial wounds and ponder the philosophy of it all, but one look into Legolas' deep well of endless blue eyes deterred that action from being carried out.

None of this was Legolas' fault. Legolas didn't even know what the significance of the Avada Kedavra _was_, and what part it had played in molding Harry's life.

Harry didn't know where to begin to explain it.

The soulmate bond between them must come with a small smidgen of mind-reading because Legolas rubbed his hands against Harry's upper arms, comforting him, loving him, and said in a clear, partly commanding, partly pleading voice…

"Tell me why you're upset. I want to know, Harry," the elf requested, "and no more vague references, and flippant narrative, I want to know it _all_."

Harry wasn't the touchy feeling, share-your-feelings type. He never had been. Vulnerability was best left underplayed; he had learned that lesson the hard way. He had always been able to take anything that life threw at him stoically, determinedly. Actions mattered, not words.

But he felt so old in that moment, so drained, and if anyone had a right to know what he was getting into by associating with Harry, it was Legolas.

Harry hadn't been kidding, not really, when he had warned Legolas that the elf was tempting fate by being with him.

So he told him, everything. How his parents had died and why. The prophecy, and what it meant. The war and the toll it took on his world. Sirius, Dumbledore, Dobby and Snape, and how their lives had been angst ridden and tragic. Horcruxes and possessed rings, lockets and cups, and the two most loyal friends that a guy could ask for, aside from the brief relapse into betrayal that Ron had indulged in.

There were good points, it wasn't all bad. His friendships were strong, and the ability to use magic was wonderful. Harry would do it all again for those two things if asked.

He told Legolas that, too.

When he was done he stared distantly at a point above Legolas' shoulder, refusing to meet his soulmate's eyes.

The confessing had been almost therapeutic in a way, as if finally releasing a damn that had been steadily building in his soul throughout the entirety of his life… the dealing with the emotional upheaval afterwards, not so much, and intimidating in its own right.

If given the choice between fighting thingamabobs or dealing with emotional confrontation, Harry would take the Orcs, smelly though they were, hands down.

A soft voice permeated his daze, "I think you're the bravest person I've ever met and I thank the Valar with everything I am that they chose me to be your soulmate," the voice stated, and Harry figured he was right… Legolas would have definitely been a greeting card writer had he lived in the world Harry had come from.

"I think you're kind of soppy," Harry said instead, with smile and watery eyes, moving forward to lay his head on his soulmate's shoulder.

"Only for you," the elf replied, bringing his hands up to run his fingers gently through Harry's hair.

Harry breathed in deeply at the wonderful sensation this elicited, and purred briefly in contentment, relieved, in a way, that the serious mood conjured by everything he had just told Legolas had been broken so easily by their effortless camaraderie.

He wished all soul-rendering, in-depth conversations could end this way, resting peaceful in the arms of the one he loved, no further words necessary.

But they couldn't stay like that forever, and they both knew it.

Hesitantly Legolas stepped away from Harry, his eyes indicating that he wanted to say more in regards to Harry's past, but one look from his soulmate had him halting, and altering his approach…

"I am going to give you happy memories," the blond elf promised earnestly, taking one of Harry's hands into both of his.

"You already have," Harry replied, and he meant it. Kissing Legolas that first time, and every time they had touched after that, was enough happiness to produce a thousand Patronuses…

Harry figured he was getting pretty soppy, too.

Legolas brought that out of him.

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

The rest of the journey was blessedly, and amazingly, considering Harry's track record for daily mayhem, uneventful. Yet nothing Harry had seen in Middle Earth to-date could prepare him for the sight he would behold once they reached their destination.

Rivendell lay within a valley, surrounded by mountains and foothills, on the bank of a great river, and it was truly the most charming town that Harry had ever laid eyes on. Like Mirkwood, the buildings were ornate and majestic, with long narrow hallways, and arches and pillars galore. For the first time since arriving in Middle Earth Harry felt that he was in a fairy tale, a twisted fairy tale featuring gratuitous violence with giant insects and man-eating, highly odorous thingamabobs, but a fairy tale nonetheless.

As they walked down a path that Legolas had explained would take them to the dwelling of Elrond, Lord and Founder of Rivendell, and someone Legolas had described as a bit of a big shot in Middle Earth, though Legolas hadn't used that terminology exactly, Harry got the gist: Elrond important, and very fucking old, make nice, be respectful, and don't bloody piss him off.

Not that Harry would ever consider crossing the guy. After meeting Thranduil Harry had developed a healthy respect for elven lords, and he fully planned to mind his pleases and thank yous, as any proper Englishman would. As the only representative of Earth - singular, gravitating around the sun between Venus and Mars - Harry felt it his duty to charm them all with his natural wizarding charisma, and failing that, he'd settle for _not_ doing anything to piss off the locals and get himself ostracized from all the cool elven hangouts.

Legolas had been nervous and edgy since arriving in Rivendell, and he kept throwing Harry sidelong glances when he thought Harry wasn't looking, causing Harry to feel slightly nervous himself.

Legolas looked as if someone had given him everything he had ever wanted, and then threatened to take it away.

Was there something about this place that Harry was supposed to be weary of as Legolas clearly was? What had gotten his damn near unflappable soulmate so completely flapped?

It was unnerving for Harry to see Legolas like this, and he was desperate to do something to put a smile back on the blond elf's face.

"This place is nice and all, but Mirkwood is much more brilliant," Harry stated to his soulmate, which was a just a bit of a lie, considering that Rivendell was truly remarkable beyond all comprehension, at least what he had seen of it so far, but Legolas shot Harry a small grin, and Harry deemed the endeavor a success. Occasionally lying, when done for the greater good, and his soulmate's happiness was clearly the greater good, was entirely justifiable.

At the end of the path, directly in font of the village, stood an elderly man dressed in grey robes, seemingly waiting for their arrival and Harry wondered if that was what put Legolas on edge, because it was certainly doing a fair job of putting _him_ on edge. How the hell had this staff carrying, Albus Dumbledore-esque, elderly chap known they were coming?

"I have been waiting for you, Harry Potter," the man called in a congenial voice, and Harry heard Legolas take in a deep breath beside him, and felt him tense, as if anxious.

Well, this certainly didn't bode well.

"Come Mr. Potter, we have much to discuss," the man continued, "Legolas, I believe you seek council with Elrond. Do not worry, my fine friend, I will return your soulmate to you when we are done."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Unless Middle Earth had a telephone communications system, which he sincerely doubted, or a fire-call system, which he doubted even _more_, how in the world did this guy know that he and Legolas were soulmates?

Did the old man in the grey robes really think Harry would just walk off with him when his soulmate was clearly upset about something and the guy knew information he shouldn't really be privy to? Harry figured that every world must have its crazy people, but Harry had not been born yesterday, or the day before that.

"Very well, Gandalf," Legolas replied softly beside him, and Harry turned to look at his soulmate imploringly. He recognized the name Gandalf; it was the wizard Legolas had brought Harry to see. But why did Legolas have fear in his eyes? Why did the blond elf look as though his world were about to end? Harry didn't understand it.

Seeing Gandalf was a good thing, wasn't it? Harry would finally get his answers.

Legolas looked deeply at Harry, longingly, his eyes sweeping over his soulmate's face as if trying to memorize every feature, and Harry felt his heart jolt inexplicably. He wished he and Legolas were alone so that Harry could hug him and kiss him and find out what in the hell was wrong.

With one last parting look of desperation sent towards his soulmate, Legolas continued down the path without him, leaving Harry and the crazy person alone. Just great. Fabulous even. What in the hell did you say to the person who could dictate your fate, and answer the ever looming question of how the portal Harry had entered had come to be to begin with?

"So, uh, lovely place you got here, lots of untouched nature and stuff. I mean Middle Earth in general is lovely, not just Rivendell, though that's great, too," Harry said, doing his best to calm his own anxiety.

"Thank you," Gandalf replied with a big smile and a small laugh, "we like it."

Harry decided then that beating around the bush was for pansies and Malfoys, and determined to embrace his Gryffindor nature with a side of increased boldness. He had endured crickets, spiders and distasteful Orcs, it was time he got his bloody answers, and he wasn't about to let the guy go 'Dumbledore' on him and beat around the bush.

Small talk was an entirely overrated practice.

"So it is obvious that you know who I am, seeing as how you just said my name quite clearly, and you know that Legolas is my soulmate," Harry stated, pleased to find his voice didn't reflect his trepidation. "And I have heard of you as well, from Legolas. You are a wizard. You work with the government here called the Valar that Legolas is always thanking for things."

Harry meant to continue his narrative, but got interrupted when Gandalf threw back his head and laughed merrily, greatly amused.

Harry didn't understand what could possibly be so funny.

"My dear boy, the Valar are not the government. More like a governing body of supreme beings. They create, and build and inspire. They are responsible for my being here, as they are you," the wizened wizard lectured.

Okay then, now he was getting somewhere. Yes, he had the Valar pegged wrong, who sounded like they were some kind of super wizards or gods, and he'd thank Legolas for not being more clear on that point later, but now he had something to work with, to expand upon.

"Why did they bring me here? For what purpose? How did they even know I exist? This is not my world," Harry pressed on, wanting to know the answers most desperately. Everything was finally clicking into place, and Harry felt like he was reading a Sherlock Holms novel, right before all the clues to a great mystery were explained so that he and Watson could understand them.

"The Valar know of your world, of course, and they know of you," Gandalf continued, giving Harry a small smile. "Young though you are, you're bravery and honor has not gone unnoticed. We need you here, Harry, we need your rather unique experience with what our world is about to face. One of our numbers, and by _our,_ I mean we the Maiar, called Istari by the elves, has fallen to the dark, seduced by power and greed. The Valar wanted to create balance, bring in someone with the experience and strength to withstand the perilous times ahead, and to give guidance to the ring bearer as one who has already gone through what he is about to. They created a portal in your home, and inspired within you the desire to walk through it. In return they have blessed you with a soulmate, and the immortality we Maiar possess. It was not by accident that the portal put you directly in Legolas' path."

Harry didn't know what he felt in regard to this revelation. On one hand it was as it was years ago, with him standing in front of a wise wizard, widely respected by all, and told of a prophecy that would dictate his life. Only this time he couldn't work up a healthy anger and destroy things. He was far too jaded for that. This was just one more thing - one more fate that crossed his path that he had to face. He hardly found any of this surprising. He'd already halfway expected it.

Harry figured that he was probably just in shock and that none of it had truly sunk in yet.

He didn't know whether that was a good thing, or just plain sad. He could get angry about one thing though...

"Legolas is not a consolation prize," Harry stated bluntly, "He's a smart, strong person, who deserves to have a say in all of this. What you're asking me to face, what you're wanting me to do - your Valar tie him to me without considering his well-being."

"Legolas' fate is already tied to the ring bearer, and to the War of the Ring after that, whether you decide to stay or not, he will be involved, and by his own volition," Gandalf answered just as succinctly. "And Legolas would never see your bond with him as a burden - soulmates are a great honor, an illustrious gift to be given. You are well matched. And by the look of things he is already very much in love with you."

Harry's heart both sprang and sank during the elder wizard's narrative. It was nice to hear that Gandalf thought his soulmate in love with him, but Legolas: beautiful, wonderful Legolas, involved in a _war_...

Harry had known, knew the minute that Legolas had mentioned a horcrux, that all of this was coming, but he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on it.

"You said whether I decide to stay or not, does that mean I have a choice?" Harry asked, remembering a vital part of what Gandalf had just said through his grief stricken daze.

"Of course you have a choice, the Valar will not keep you here against your will," Gandalf replied with a small smile, seeing a way to appeal towards friendship with the weary youth, "you have freewill. If you wish to return to your world it will be arranged."

Well, that was certainly a novelty. He hadn't been given many choices in life. His fate had been foretold before he was born, and the future of his old world had depended on that fate.

However, even now there wasn't a choice. Not really. His fate had been decided the moment he'd cast the killing curse to save the one he loved. Yes, he'd miss his friends, and he would miss his home. He would miss concrete, street lights, and motorized transportation. He'd even miss Kreacher, and he'd _definitely_ miss Kreacher's cooking, but there was no way that Legolas was going off to war without him. Harry would stay and he would protect the only person he'd ever fallen completely, head-over-heels in love with. He wouldn't leave Legolas to this fate alone.

And he did know a thing or two about horcruxes - he would be able to resist the pull of the ring.

"Thanks for the choice, it was big of your Valar, really, but I stay," Harry proclaimed _'and the giant spiders and Orcs better watch the fuck out'_, he added mentally.

Gandalf smiled, hugely, his demeanor brightened, "Welcome to Middle Earth, Harry Potter. We're happy to have you. You may not believe this now, but you and I are going to be great friends, it has been foreseen."

"Well, far be it with me to argue with something that has been foreseen," Harry replied with an answering grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Gandalf."

The old man wasn't actually half bad. Harry actually kind of liked him. He was honest, straight-forward and he didn't pull his punches... it was refreshing in an elderly leader.

Harry figured he was still in shock, and that he was going to look back on this conversation later and cringe at certain aspects of it, but for now he had an elf to find.

"Follow the stairs and turn left, take the hall with fires burning under the arches to the end and make a right, the first door you find will be the rooms you and Legolas have been given for your stay. You'll find Legolas waiting for you there," Gandalf said, reading Harry's intention.

"Thanks," Harry responded, giving Gandalf a nod, "I'll see you around."

With that he bounded up the stairs, eager to find his soulmate.

When he arrived at their rooms he found Legolas pacing, his eyes desperate and his breathing erratic. When he saw Harry he went to him as if possessed, grabbing him by the arms, and pulling him snug against his body, their bond sparking to life, causing the temperature of the air around them to heighten.

Without a word to Harry, Legolas began groping him in earnest, nuzzling Harry's neck, and peppering kisses anywhere his lips could reach, in all folds and crevices, as if attempting to leave no place untouched.

Harry felt his knees buckle, and felt dizzy, he had to grab onto Legolas, his hands clutching fistfuls of the elf's tunic, in order to stay upright.

A great fog took over his mind, and lust swelled within his body, causing a groan to escape his throat. He tilted his head back, giving Legolas better access.

Legolas then went for the hem of Harry's tunic, moving it up as if to lift it over his head… it was then that a small thought managed to pierce through the overwhelming passion... This was wrong. Legolas didn't want this. Legolas wanted to wait until they were married.

With more will than he ever thought he could possess, Harry forced Legolas hands away, took a step back, and caught Legolas' eyes.

"I thought you wanted to wait," Harry choked, his voice hoarse with untamed passion.

"I've changed my mind, I just want you," Legolas responded frantically, moving to clutch Harry to him again.

Harry wanted to give in so badly, he'd never wanted anything more. If he could look into the Mirror of Erised right now, it would show he and Legolas locked together in a passionate embrace. But this wasn't about him; something was off with Legolas…

"Why did you change your mind?" Harry asked, so lost.

"I don't want to lose you," the elf replied… and then Harry got it.

Legolas thought Harry was going to leave. He was giving Harry what he thought he wanted in order to entice him to stay - he was compromising his moral integrity in order to get Harry to stay. The two of them were really quite the pair.

Harry felt like the world's, either world's, biggest git. That he had given Legolas this doubt, had made him worry; that he had forced his soulmate to this…

"Let's get married first," Harry replied softly.

It took a second for that to sink in; a full second where Legolas continued to desperately clutch at his soulmate, and then comprehension flashed across his face like the dawn of a new day, and a smile grew wide, eyes shining like the sun.

"You'll marry me?" Legolas asked, his words hitching with unrestrained emotion.

"Yes, Legolas, I'll marry you. I'm going to stay here, in Middle Earth," Harry announced, nearly moved to tears but doing his best to rein it in. Tears, not even happy ones, weren't needed now. Not in this minute. They'd only distract from the purity of the moment.

Legolas grabbed Harry to him once more, fisting a hand in his hair and tilting Harry's head back as he brought their lips together with a strength that should have hurt, but didn't. Instead it spurned fever in Harry's body, and the tidal wave of lust that always sprang from their bond washed over him anew, and Harry thought this was more addicting than firewhiskey or horcrux rings – that this had to be the best high ever reached.

And then he wasn't thinking at all.

Later - much later, or soon later, Harry had lost all concept of time - dizzy and out of breath, Legolas pulled back, brought his hand around to cup Harry's cheek and said in a clear voice…"I love you."

"I love you, back," Harry replied, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear every beat within his ears.

"I am so very lucky," Legolas breathed out, his fingers gently tracing a trail down Harry's face, as he looked at his soulmate with undeniable appreciation.

"You say that now. Just wait till you see how many death traps I am capable of walking into within a one year time-frame. I probably hold a record of some kind," Harry teased, wanting nothing more than to see his soulmate's eyes light with mirth, and remove any lingering trace of somberness from their moment... this moment was about joy.

Legolas shook his head and laughed.

"Harry, there is not a thing about you that I would change."

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

*I know I took longer to update this time - sorry about that. I dragged "Fellowship" off of my bookshelf to reread "The Council of Elrond" to make sure that I didn't mess anything up in this new chapter, and ended up rereading the entire book *sheepish grin*. Bookworms unite! ;-)

Chapter 11:

Harry liked being held by Legolas best of all. More than flying, even. It granted the same heart-pounding adrenaline that flying did, that same exhilaration, but it provided additional things that flying did not: warmth, comfort, security - all things that Harry had been missing out on his whole life and didn't know he had needed, really, until he'd found it.

It was a bit of novelty to have somebody for himself. Somebody made for him, belonging to him and strictly to him. Not someone he had to share, the way he did both of his best friends with each other.

Legolas was his to hug and kiss whenever the mood struck him, which was a little beyond a novelty, really, it was extraordinary. Not that he'd voice those thoughts anytime soon. His mind was going beyond mere soppiness and all of the way to Jane Austin-type romanticism, which just wouldn't do, he was still a man, damn it, even if his soulmate, er fiancé now, Harry supposed, brought out his softer side.

Oh if Ron and Hermione could see him now; as he and Legolas stood locked in an embrace, glorifying in their recent declarations of love, neither inclined to move… he'd never hear the bloody end of it. Hermione would think it cute, and start quoting Barrett-Browning poems on 'how do I love thee and counting the ways', and Ron would wonder when it was that Harry had started to channel the personalities of Parvati and Lavender.

But then, Ron had always had too many brothers for his own good. There was far too much testosterone in the Burrow – any romantic nature Ron might have developed naturally on his own had to have been exorcised out of him by the age of one. Hermione would have to beat it back into him throughout the course of their relationship and, knowing her, probably would.

Harry didn't regret his decision to stay in Middle Earth for a second, but a part of him wished he could introduced his friends to Legolas and vice versa. He knew that they would have liked him. Legolas could have charmed even the most hardened of hearts – he would have had even Snape eating out of the palm of his hands, had Snape still been alive, and assuming Snape had the emotional capacity to do any emotion beyond dour and lovelorn.

"I have something for you," Legolas stated, pulling back out of Harry's reach to search through his leather carrying sack for something.

Harry had to admit his interest was piqued. Whatever it was that Legolas had for him had to have come with them from Mirkwood, and Harry couldn't imagine why Legolas had waited till this moment to cough whatever it was up.

Legolas smiled at him nervously as he pulled out a folded bit of cloth, which he slowly unraveled to reveal two silver rings, which, to Harry's eternal gratitude, did not look or emote possession. One never knew with jewelry these days.

"These are betrothal rings," Legolas explained softly, "elven betrothals last a year, at which point we exchange these rings for wedding rings the day of our marriage."

Harry felt his heart rate pick up exponentially, and knew that this was it, the crowning moment of all relationships where things became official and friends and family started picking out the china. On second thought Harry was glad his friends weren't present, he didn't bloody need china, he just needed Legolas… might as well embrace his inner Jane Austin and Elizabeth Barrett-Browning now and be done with it; he was smitten to a nonsensical degree.

And while Harry fully intended to wear his ring proudly, he still couldn't help but rib Legolas, just a little…

"Am I really that easy that you knew to bring those with you all the way to Rivendell expecting my consent?" Harry asked, sending his soulmate a wide grin to show he was teasing.

"Easy?," the blond elf snorted, shooting Harry an incredulous look, "You call what I had to do to get you to agree to marry me _easy_?! Just the opposite, in fact. You, my dear soulmate, are the most difficult, stubborn, exasperating…"

"You say the nicest things," Harry interrupted sardonically, quoting the common party-line while his grin grew wider, "but really, there is no need for incessant flattery, I was going to marry you anyway. By the way Legolas, you should take a look in a lake and tell me whose reflection you see there."

Legolas looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or huff, so he settled instead for shaking his head, and smiling sheepishly at Harry.

"How I was lucky enough to capture you no longer matters," Legolas continued, "I have you now and I intend to keep you in my heart for always. I've waited nearly 3000 years for you, and I can't wait a second longer. Wear my ring, Harry, and one year from now, no matter where we are or what we are doing, I am going to marry you, and we are going to consummate our relationship the way we both want."

There were so many quips that Harry could respond with to that, ranging from a year being the longest case of foreplay in existence, to dying from sexual repression before reaching that year mark, but strangely he felt all need for sarcasm die before reaching his lips, and instead simply nodded his head, swallowed against the lump in his throat, and watched as Legolas put on his own ring, and moved to place Harry's ring on his finger.

The cold metal felt alien on, cold, heavy and requisite, but the feeling of elation that Harry received while looking at it was beyond comprehension.

It was official then. Harry Potter was engaged.

Harry figured he had to start thanking the Valar for things now, too, because despite the pending war, what they had given him was beyond anything Harry could possibly do in return.

*****

The council of beings that Lord Elrond had called together to discuss the fate of the ring looked like the staff table at Hogwarts, with various races of beings sitting stoically together ranging in all shapes and sizes.

It was the hobbits, however, who caught Harry's attention the most, both because he couldn't wait to personally meet Frodo, who he assumed to be the younger, forlorn one with the haunted look in his eyes… eyes that Harry knew mirrored his own just months prior, and because they were the only beings, save the dwarfs, who were shorter than Harry.

After being around the almost ridiculously tall elves the most since his arrival in Middle Earth, and meeting the almost equally tall Gandalf and Aragorn, Harry was beginning to get a bit of a complex. He was average sized, thank you kindly, average – no shame in that, but apparently, despite its title, there was no middle _anything_ in Middle Earth. Everything was either tall or short, soppy or possessed, good or evil, gorgeous, or gorgeous deficient…

Aragorn was a prime example of that. Harry loved Legolas more than he thought he'd ever be capable of loving anybody, and thought his soulmate beautiful beyond the telling of it, both outside and in, but that didn't mean he was either blind or dead. Aragorn was truly a fine specimen of manhood if Harry ever saw one. He could see immediately why the lady Arwen was so taken with him. And as a gay man he felt his qualifications for judging such things were pretty much up to par.

When Legolas had introduced the two of them, just prior to the council meeting, Harry had got a little, just a tad mind, tongue-tied. Which had caused the nearby Gandalf to chuckle in obvious amusement, Aragorn to blush, and Legolas to glare at him and grab Harry's hand tightly to tug him more firmly to the elf's side.

It was then that Harry discovered that a jealous Legolas was just as sexy as a feral, warrior Legolas, and a soppy, tender Legolas. Pretty much all of Legolas' incarnations were brilliant, and Harry told him so to lessen the jealousy burning brightly in Legolas eyes. Luckily it had worked and it would be something that Harry would remember to bring up in the future should he find anyone else in Middle Earth remotely attractive and manage to get himself tongue-tied again.

Until then he had to force himself to listen once more while the fate of another world was discussed, and the future of he, his soulmate, the poor, haunted Frodo, and whoever else wanted to join them, decided.

Elrond, who was much more somber and wise than Harry had pictured him in his head prior to meeting him, was explaining the history of the ring. Which the more Harry heard, the more he knew for a fact that the ring was a horcrux - there wasn't any doubt. The Dark Lord Sauron had crafted the ring using a bit of his soul, no other magic that Harry had ever encountered or heard of could grant an inanimate object that much power over the minds of others.

During Elrond's rather interesting tale, two dwarfs, one older and one younger, who Harry had yet to meet but that kept glaring at Legolas in a way that was thoroughly starting to piss Harry off, stood up and starting talking about someone they called a _Dark Rider_ visiting them. This Dark Rider had offered them prestigious positions of power should they side with Sauron and offer up some information regarding hobbits.

Apparently Sauron had his own set of Death Eaters. Just great. Harry supposed all Dark Lords everywhere couldn't really be that effective if they didn't have minions, it must be a prestigious thing among them… _'my minions tempt dwarfs with promises of power'… 'oh yeah, will my minion named Renfield, eats bugs, top that'_.

But that thought was cut short as another tall guy, who was only adding to Harry's complex about the tallness of everyone here who wasn't a hobbit, a dwarf, or a Harry, stood and spoke of smoke coming from a place called Mount Doom, which Harry could only assume was a _bad thing_ if this guy, who Gandalf had told him prior to the meeting was called Boromir, thought it important enough to stand up and announce.

_Mount Doom_? They had a mountain here called Mount _Doom_? Honestly, who would name a place _Doom_? If it were Harry, even if a place were foreboding, he'd call it something non-menacing, like Mount Cheer or Mount Happy. Mount Doom sounded exactly like the type of place to attract the forest fires that seemed to be burning there just by sheer karma from the name.

Boromir went on to explain about his town being attacked and some dream he and his brother shared, before Aragon stood and talked about a broken sword, and Boromir asked who the hell Aragorn thought he was, and Elrond told Boromir just who Aragorn was, which was royalty and Boromir's superior, and the whole thing was more entertaining than the television that Dudley used to bow before the alter of… at least from Harry's perspective, though if was obvious that everyone else thought the situation rather serious. Harry just wished that he had popcorn. One just couldn't make this stuff up off the cuff.

Harry kind of drifted a bit after that, half listening to Gandalf going through self-reprimanding over wasting time with some evil guy named Saruman when he should have been studying up on the ring more thoroughly, followed by Aragon trying to assuage Gandalf's guilt by saying it was all of their faults, and Harry thought it rather nice that everyone was sharing the love around here. The wizarding world had been quick to point fingers, and quicker to bury their heads in the sand when it came to facing up to repercussions, except for those few who battled by Harry's side in the Battle of Hogwarts and actively fought against the repression of Voldemort's regime before that.

Finally there was reference to that Gollum guy who had escaped from Legolas' men, er elves, in the Mirkwood forest, because they were kind enough to allow him to walk around instead of toiling away in a dungeon cell. Harry shot Legolas a smile at the kindness they had shown this Gollum creature, only to have the moment ruined by the elder dwarf speaking up about his own imprisonment by Legolas' dear ol' dad.

'You locked some Dwarfs in a dungeon?' Harry mouthed to his soulmate, giving him a half-reprimanding, half-teasing look.

"It was Ada's idea, not mine, I stayed well out of the way during the entire situation," Legolas whispered under his breath, looking a bit cross at the reminder of the clearly traumatic experience.

"Remind me to never piss your father off, ever," Harry whispered back, causing Legolas to chuckle softly under his breath.

Both dwarfs glared mightily at Legolas' amusement, and Harry just shrugged his shoulders at them as if to say 'get over it, it's of the past' and laid his head on his soulmate's shoulder in a sign of solidarity. Legolas turned and pressed a small kiss on Harry's head, before turning his attention back to the discussion at hand, which revolved around this aforementioned Saruman guy betraying them all in a Peter Pettigrew type manner. Harry could only figure that he must have been the one that Gandalf had referred to when he mentioned that one of the Istari had gone bad.

That bloody figured, too. There always had to be at least one.

It was decided not long after that the ring had to be destroyed in some volcano called Mordor, also called _Doom, _which pretty much cleared up the question of why it was brought up that the mountain was smoking, though the Boromir guy looked a bit put out by the prospect of destroying the ring there, and Harry made a mental note to keep a close eye on that one… he was reminding Harry of Ron under the influence of Voldemort's locket.

Who would take the ring to said volcano, which Harry guessed was the Middle Earth equivalent of Vesuvius, only more deadly, was a bit of debate among the group, though Harry knew, as Gandalf had told him, that the bearer of the ring was pretty much a forgone conclusion.

"I will take the ring," a soft voice proclaimed, "though I do not know the way."

All heads turned towards the small, brave hobbit, and Harry eyed him with a swell of growing compassion. He knew first hand the toll that this experience was going to take on the little guy, and that any innocence he still held would soon be lost. Harry vowed then and there to ease the weight off of Frodo as much as he could, like Hermione had done for him. It looked like Frodo had close friends in the other Hobbits who had journeyed with him, but as Harry had learned, one could never have enough moral support when dealing with true evil.

Frodo reminded Harry too much of himself.

Once the meeting was over, and everyone got up to leave, Harry eyed the ring laying innocently on a podium.

The ring glittered at him, shining gold, and promised him, deep in the corners of his mind, unparalleled power and greatness should Harry pick it up and put it on.

"Ri-ight," Harry told the ring, "I once turned down a Dark Lord who offered me power and he did it with a lot more finesse than you. And in case that wasn't a clear enough answer, that means you can take your power and shove it where…"

'But I can help you achieve great things. Whatever it is you want out of life, I can bring that to you,' the ring promised further, glittering extra sparkly in the sun.

Harry had always been able to resist the imperious curse and it pissed him off, thoroughly, when anything, especially horcruxes, entered his mind against his will. This ring was so going down.

"Like I need _you_ to get what I want out of life," Harry snorted, sending the ring a glare for good measure, before continuing to taunt it. "We are going to destroy you, you know. And when we do there is going to be a wild party to celebrate, in fact, I myself will transfigure some firewhiskey to contribute to the festivities. There's going to be food, and music, and Legolas and I are going to have wild sex to exemplify our joy."

"Harry," the mortified voice of his soulmate called out, and Harry turned to find all parties, who Harry had thought had been departing, looking at him incredulously.

Legolas, normally so unperturbed, was a rather bright shade of puce. Harry thought it a good color on him, but then, most colors were.

Elrond and Gandalf shared a knowing look, each hiding a smile.

Aragorn was more open in his emotional expression, chuckling softly and throwing Legolas a wink.

"The elf is annoying, but the mate is pretty entertaining," Harry heard the dwarf called Gimli tell his father, as they turned to leave, both clearly amused.

But best of all was the small smile that Frodo sent to him, his eyes briefly free of burden.

Harry sheepishly smiled back.

*****

Author's notes: This is the last full chapter to this fic, although there will be an epilogue. I do have a sequel planned called "Embracing Fate" that will continue with the events from the LotR trilogy told from Harry's perspective, which means expect sarcasm and tons of it. ;-)

ArwendeImladris and Jukka, there is a shout-out to both of you in this chapter. Walter Dash, there is a shout-out to you as well. Let's see if you can find them…

Thank you, everyone, who has been so wonderful, and supportive with your comments. It is greatly appreciated. I carried your warmth and encouragement with me with each progressive chapter that I wrote. You guys and gals are awesome beyond the telling of it! *hugs*


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